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^TflG 

STREET 

SINGER 


By 

JOHN T.M5INTYRE 

AUTHOR OF 

“Fighting King George” 
“TheBoyTarsofl812” 
"Wth John Paul Jones” 

ILLUSTRATED BY 
J.C.CLAGHORN 



THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA 
MCMVIII 







|L5tsW<»iSY of i>*j!y - .’{iil 
i'wo UODieS .. 

(WAY 6 1908 

s£7"fl. 


COP^GHT 
1908 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBUSHNG 
COMPANY 



Contents 


I- 

A Song in the Snow 

- 

7 


Rainbow Alley - • - 

- 

22 

;;l ni- 

Talking it Over 

- 

35 

SK IV. 

In THE Attic Room - - - 

- 

51 

V. 

Chub Takes a Trip 

- 

64 

ilil VI. 

Chub Foster in a New Light - 

- 

71 

VII. 

How Chub Took the Hundred 



Yards - - - - - 

- 

89 

y VIII. 

How Chub Made Two Friends 

- 

lOI 

IX. 

What Chub Saw From a Window 

- 

“3 

X. 

Chub Foster Goes Back to the Old 



Life ----- 

- 

134 

XL 

The Cellar of Shadrack 

- 

146 

XII. 

Chub Tries an Experiment 

- 

170 

XIII. 

Chub Foster Traces the Shadow 

- 

202 

XIV. 

Chub Scores a Success, but is Puzzled 

219 

XV. 

Chub Foster Suspects Shadrack 

- 

239 

XVI. 

Another Surprise for Chub 

- 

260 

XVII. 

Chub Crosses the River - 

- 

283 

XVIII. 

The Hulk of the “Storm King” 

- 

296 

XIX. 

The “ Storm King ” Once More 

- 

311 

XX. 

At Last - - - - - 

- 

322 

XXL 

Spencer Explains - - - 

- 

334 

XXII. 

The Fifteenth of November - 

- 

348 


6 


N 


Illustrations 


PAGE 

There Rose a Clear Boyish Voice Frontispiece 

“ Did You Ever Cook Anything ? ” She 

Asked 53 / 

A Good Yard in the Lead 96 ^ 

"They’ve Gone Away/’ He Whispered . . 138 

The Room was Thronged 220 

The Papers Fell to the Floor 281 

A Small Form Darted Across the Road . 331 









The Street Singer 

CHAPTER I 

A SONG IN THE SNOW 

** I'm awful cold, Chub ! " 

‘^Are you, kidsy? Well, hold out for a 
little longer, and we'll fix that, all right." 

^^And will we have some supper and a 
place to sleep? " 

** Sure, we will. Just you stand here where 
the wind and snow can't hit you. I'll have 
enough in a half hour to put us both in 
clover." 

The speaker was a well-built, round-faced 
boy of about fourteen. His clothes were old, 
thin and very shabby, and his great mop of 
dark, curling hair was only partly covered 
by a little blue cap that once, apparently, had 
been the property of a high-school boy, for it 

still had the class number and colors embroid- 
7 


8 


The Street Singer 

ered on its front. The other was a smaller 
and more delicate boy with fair hair and big 
appealing eyes; in spite of his soiled and 
worn clothes he had the air of a lad brought 
up in refinement, and the wistful delicacy of 
his expression showed that he had not ex- 
perienced the buffets of the city as had his 
older and sturdier companion. 

Do you always get money when you sing, 
Chub? ” asked the smaller boy. 

“ Every time. When they hear me chirp, 
kidsy, the dimes just can^t stay in their 
pockets. 

“ I wish I could sing. I^d earn some 
money, too, then. Who taught you. Chub? 

^‘Why, I guess I always had the voice, 
sonny. And then Mr. Travers, the choir 
master in the Tiscopal church, showed me 
how to use it, some, a long time ago. I used 
to sing solos.” 

Why didn't you go on singing in the 
church. Chub? It was better than standing 
in the snow on cold nights, I should think.” 


The Street Singer 9 

'^So it was. But I couldn’t stand the 
gang’s guying me.” Chub Foster looked 
shamefaced as he said it. They used to 
call me a Sunday-school kid, and things like 
that. It wasn’t fashionable along the wharves 
to go to Sunday-school ; so I stopped.” 

I used to go to Sunday-school,” said the 
smaller boy. 

Chub looked at him severely. 

“ Never you mind where you used to go. 
I thought I told you not to say things like 
that?” 

“ I beg your pardon,” said the boy simply. 
“ I forgot.” 

** It won’t do to forget too often,” returned 
Chub with great sternness. “ You know 
what I’ve been telling you all along.” 

** Yes, Chub, thank you.” 

The words were spoken timidly and the 
boy looked hurriedly all about with big 
wistful eyes. Chub buttoned the thin old 
jacket about him, and turned up his coat 
collar. 


lo The Street Singer 

Now/’ said he, kindly, '' put your hands 
down in your pockets and try to keep warm. 
I’m going to scatter high notes all over the 
street. There’s a good many people going in 
and out of the station just now and I’ll have 
enough in a little while. Keep kicking your 
heels against the wall ; that’ll keep your 
feet warm.” 

With these words Chub Foster walked out 
of the sheltered angle and into the glare of 
the lights in front of the Terminal Station. 
It was a bitterly cold Januar}^ uight, and the 
blustering wind drove the falling snow about 
in whirling masses. The lights of the stores 
on Market Street gleamed redly through the 
veil of white ; and throngs of people, warmly 
wrapped, were hurrying up and down the 
slippery, snow-tracked steps. 

Suddenly, above the muffled coughing of 
the locomotives upon the elevated rails and 
the melancholy moaning of the wind, there 
rose a high, clear, boyish voice, singularly 
sweet and of wonderful power. Pedestrians 


11 


The Street Singer 

paused ; even time-pressed passengers hurry- 
ing for their trains stopped at the sound ; the 
cabmen, made drowsy by the cold, were open- 
eyed in a moment. The singer was a shabby- 
looking boy who stood by the curb, his hands 
in his jacket pockets and his head thrown 
back. Clear, full, beautiful the melody 
thrilled from his throat : 

Maxwelton braes are bonnie, 

Where early fa^s the dew. 

And it’s there that Annie Laurie 
Gie’d me her promise true ” 

** Good gracious ! ” exclaimed a stout old 
gentleman, listening open-mouthed, “ what a 
remarkable voice for a boy like that.^’ 

‘‘ Hush,^’ said a sweet-faced old lady at his 
side, her eyes shining, and her hands holding 
tightly to his arm. “ Listen ! 

The beautiful melody went on, sweet, pure 
and unbroken : 

Gie’d me her promise true, 

Which ne’er forgot will be, 

And for bonnie Annie Laurie, 

I’d lay me doon and dee.” 


12 


The Street Singer 

At the conclusion of the stanza there came 
a clatter of umbrellas upon the sidewalk and 
steps, and a soft pattering of hands. A party, 
alighting from private carriages, the ladies 
clad in rich furs and with jewels sparkling in 
their hair, the gentlemen in long coats and 
opera hats, joined in the applause with aston- 
ished good will. 

Chub stamped his feet upon the cold curb, 
moistened his lips and smiled. He was per- 
fectly self-possessed, for surprised listeners 
were an old story to him. Then he began 
the second stanza. 

“ Her brow is like the snaw drift, 

Her neck is like the swan, 

Her face it is the fairest 
That e’er the sun shone on — 

That e’er the sun shone on, 

And dark blue is her e’e ; 

And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I’d lay me doon and dee.” 

The clang of a bell came from a clock-tower 
near by. 

“ Our train ! ” cried one among the ladies 


13 


The Street Singer 

who had just alighted from the carriages. 

Harold,” to the gentleman at her side, 
“ give the boy something — quick ; I never 
heard anything so beautiful before.” 

A shining coin spun through the falling 
flakes of snow and Chub caught it deftly. 

Many thanks,” said he, pulling off his 
cap, his dark eyes snapping with delight. In 
an instant he was among the throng trooping 
up the steps, the last words of the beautiful 
old ballad thrilling upon his lips, and the 
coins chinking into his cap. 

Ten minutes afterward Chub and his little 
friend opened the door of one of those bril- 
liantly lighted, glass fronted lunch rooms that 
cluster so thickly in the business districts of 
all large cities. 

Pile up on that chair in the corner,” di- 
rected Chub, cheerfully. ** ThaPs where the 
heat pipes are, kidsy, and we want to get 
good and warm while we tuck away our sup- 
pers.” 

“ You get on the other side. Chub,” said the 


H 


The Street Singer 

smaller boy, settling himself as indicated and 
warming his chilled little body by pressing 
closely against the pipes. ‘‘ You must be 
colder than I, for you stood out in the wind 
and snow.” 

^'Oh, I can stand it,” laughed Chub. He 
blew vigorously into his hands and ran his 
eyes eagerly over the card which he propped 
up before him on the table. 

A young girl placed glasses of water before 
them. She had a rosy, cheery face, and wore 
a neat white apron and bib, with shoulder 
straps that crossed down the back. 

“ Can I bring your order? ” she asked. 

Chub grinned. 

You can, if you’re good and strong,” he 
replied. 

Are you going to eat so much as all that ? ” 

The girl laughed as she spoke, and showed 
her fine white teeth ; then for the first time 
she observed the delicate, wistful face of the 
younger boy. 

“ Oh, poor little fellow,” she cried in a 


The Street Singer 15 

pretty, motherly fashion. How very cold you 
look.^^ 

I'm getting warm now, thanks," said the 
boy. There was a quick rush of tears to his 
eyes at her tone, and he suddenly covered his 
face with his hands. 

Are you his brother ? " asked the girl of 
Chub. 

** No," said he, “ I'm his chaperon." 

Oh, how can you joke when he feels so? " 

^‘That's just the time to joke," returned 
Chub, composedly. Kids like him ain’t got 
no right to feel that way." Then he turned 
to his companion and inquired, with a great 
air of sternness, Say, Harry, what's the mat- 
ter with you ? " 

Harry took his hands away from his face 
and looked guilty. 

It isn't anything. Chub, indeed it isn't," 
pleaded he. 

Whatever you do," warned the elder boy, 
don't do any * mama's baby ' business. It'll 
make trouble — understand ? " 


i6 


The Street Singer 

'' Yes, Chub/’ said Harry, meekly. 

The girl stroked Harry’s long yellow curls, 
while Chub regarded her with much disfavor. 

You’re cold and you’re hungry,” he in- 
formed his friend, '' that’s what’s the matter 
with you. So let’s get busy on the grub.” 
He turned his eyes on the waitress. “ I’ll 
have some hot coffee and a plate of sinkers.” 

Harry looked interested at the prospect of 
food. 

What’s sinkers. Chub ? ” he asked. 

“ They’re what the doctor didn’t order,” 
grinned Chub. I don’t think you’d better 
take any — you couldn’t handle them.” 

Let me bring you something that I’ll 
order,” begged the girl of Harry, eagerly. 

“ I guess you’d better,” said Chub. ** You’ve 
made a hit with her, kidsy, and she’s sure to 
treat you right.” 

The waitress brought Chub his hot un-^ 
wholesome biscuits ; also she set before Harry ! 
a bowl of hot broth and some fine white rolls, j 
While they ate she stood and watched them 


The Street Singer 17 

with interest, now and then giving a little tug 
at her frilled apron, or a touch to her heavy 
coils of hair. 

The hot broth warmed Harry at once and 
the coffee did the same for Chub. The latter, 
as he put some butter on his biscuit, uncon- 
sciously began to hum a popular air in a low, 
sweet undertone. The girl stared. 

** That was you I heard singing in the street 
awhile ago,” she accused. 

Chub nodded. His mouth was full just 
then, but he grinned amiably. 

‘‘I thought it was very beautiful,” con- 
tinued the girl impulsively. 

“ Chub can sing great,” agreed Harry, 
pausing in his sipping of the broth. I never 
heard anybody like him.” 

Chub spread both hands comically over his 
face and peeped through his fingers in bur- 
lesque modesty. 

You make me blush,” he declared. 

Do you sing, too ? ” asked the waitress of 
Harry. 


i8 The Street Singer 

No/^ he confessed. I wish I could. 

Where do you live ? 

The boy looked up with that quick, wistful 
appeal in his eyes that she had noticed before. 

We don’t live anywhere,” said he. 

The girl gasped. Outside the snow was 
piling up in huge drifts in every sheltered 
spot ; the wind was flurrying the falling flakes 
about and moaning dismally. 

No home 1 ” said the girl, awed. Not on 
a night like this? ” 

We ain’t got no regular home, that’s what 
he means,” Chub hastened to inform her, 
darting a warning look at Harry. ** We sleep 
in lodging houses.” 

^‘In lodging houses.” She looked doubt- 
fully at Harry’s delicate face and frowned a 
little. They aren’t very nice places, are 
they ? ” 

'' Not very,” confessed Chub. '' But we 
can’t afford to hang up our hats at any of the 
swell hotels just now.” 

** Of course not. But why don’t you rent a 


The Street Singer 19 

room somewhere — in a respectable place. It 
would be so much nicer.^^ 

“ I guess it would/^ admitted Chub, regret- 
fully. But nobody would rent a room to 
boys like us.” 

Have you ever tried ? ” 

Once. And the woman was going to send 
for a policeman. I guess she thought we were 
suspicious, somehow.” 

The girl regarded them both thought- 
fully. 

My mother has a room to rent,” she said, 
finally. 

Chub and Harry exchanged looks. 

Has she ? ” asked the former, eagerly. 

Yes. It^s an attic room, and she’ll rent it 
for a dollar a week.” 

“ Do you think she’d rent it to us? ” 

** I’m sure she would. It’s a good way up 
town, though.” 

“ That wouldn’t make any difference, would 
it, Harry ? ” 

“ I don’t think so. Chub.” 


20 The Street Singer 

“ Say,” said Chub, confidentially, “ what’s 
your name? 

Nan Daily. I’m fifteen years old, and I 
work here from noon until ten o’clock every 
night.” 

“Does just you and your mother live to- 
gether ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; I’ve a brother, Phil ; but he’s 
lame and must stay in the house a great deal.” 

“ When can we see your mother? ” 

“ You could go up with me to-night, if you 
wanted to.” 

“ That suits us,” cried Chub, with satisfac- 
tion. 

“ Perhaps,” said Nan, thoughtfully, “ see- 
ing that you are only two boys, mother might 
reduce the rent a little. And if you didn’t 
have the money to pay, right away, she could 
wait until the end of the week.” 

“ Oh, we’ve got the money, all right,” said 
Chub, gleefully. “ Open up the treasury, 
son.” 

Harry thrust his hand into the breast 


21 


The Street Singer 

pocket of his jacket and drew it out full of 
coins. These he placed upon the table. 

“ See that ? demanded the latter. 

“ There^s two dollars and thirty cents there. 
I made it in ten minutes in front of the Ter- 
minal Station. 

Nan looked and listened with wide opened 
eyes. 

Do you always get so much as that when 
you sing? ” she asked, at last. 

No ; I wish I did. But I had good luck 
to-night. A man gave me that cart-wheel 
there, pointing to a silver dollar, ^^and a 
little, fat old man, who had a nice old lady 
with him, gave me this half. The others 
came in nickels and dimes and cents/^ 

At a nod from Chub Harry gathered up 
the money and stowed it away once more. 

“ It’s almost ten now,” said the young 
street singer glancing at the big clock that 
hung upon the wall. “ We’ll wait here until 
you are done work and then you can take us 
up to your mother’s.” 


CHAPTER II 


RAINBOW ALLEY 

Mrs. Daily sat at one side of the kitchen 
stove mending a stocking and listening to the 
howling of the wind and the dashing of the 
sleet against the window-panes. Her son, 
Phil, sat at the other side, in his rolling-chair, 
his arms clasped about his crippled limb and 
his eyes fixed upon the clock. 

“ IPs almost eleven, mother,” said the lame 
boy, at last. 

“ Time that Nanny were home,” answered 
his mother. Sure, Phil, darling it’s a wild 
night, so it is, and it’s a long, cruel walk for 
a slip of a girl.” 

“ Oh, I wish Nan didn’t have to go to 
work ! ” exclaimed Phil. If I were only 
strong, mother, she wouldn’t.” 

Bless ye, child, don’t I know that,” cried 
22 


23 


The Street Singer 

his mother proudly. ‘‘ Faith, it’s slave your- 
self to death ye’d be doing, for her, and for 
me. But never mind, Phil ; there’s a better 
time coming.” 

If I ever get better,” said Phil, hopefully, 
we’ll not live in Rainbow Alley. I’ll make 
a better home for you than this, mother.” 

We have a nice little place, enough, 
laddie,” said Mrs. Daily with a satisfied glance 
about the neat room. But, then, I suppose 
it’s in a grand mansion ye’d have me and 
Nanny.” 

Oh, I wish I could,” cried the lame boy. 
It hurts me, mother, to lie here day after 
day and see you work, work, work, all the 
time, and see sister Nan forced to go out in all 
sorts of weather. Listen to the wind,” hold- 
ing up a thin hand, ** and to the sleet — and 
she not home yet.” 

Don’t worry, child,” said his mother. 
Nan will be all right. She’ll be here before 
long.” 

** But she hasn’t any car fare,” cried Phil ; 


24 The Street Singer 

“ she’ll have to walk all the way through the 
storm.’^ 

It was plain that Mrs. Daily didn't like the 
idea of this herself; but she hid her fears 
from Phil, not wishing to disturb him. They 
sat in silence for a long time, the lame boy's 
eyes on the clock, his mother's hands busy 
with the mending and her ears alert for any 
sound of footsteps that would announce her 
daughter's coming. 

Hark ! " she exclaimed at last, holding up 
one hand. 

Phil listened eagerly. The snow had 
drifted deep into the alley and deadened the 
sound ; but there were footsteps, unmistakably. 

It's Nan," shouted Phil gladly, as he 
saw the handle of the door turn. “ Hello, 
Nan ; hurry in ; there's a warm fire." 

It was Nan, sure enough, with her eyes 
sparkling, her cheeks flushed and the snow- 
flakes in her hair. And much to her mother 
and brother's surprise two strange boys fol- 
lowed her in. 


25 


The Street Singer 

“ Take off your coat and hat, Nanny,’' said 
Mrs. Daily ; sure you’re covered with snow, 
asthore.” 

Chub promptly helped the girl off with her 
coat, shook the clinging particles from it and 
hung it upon a peg. Then he kicked the 
snow from his feet on the door-mat, motioning 
Harry to do the same ; after which he took 
the broom which stood back of the stove, 
swept up the snow and threw it into the coal 
box. 

Mrs. Daily and Phil were regarding the 
two strangers with great curiosity while this 
was in progress ; and now the mother spoke. 

“ And who are these two boys, Nanny ? ” 
she asked. 

Nan was about to speak when Chub stepped 
forward, cap in hand and a solemn expression 
upon his face. 

This,” said he, bowing to Mrs. Daily and 
Phil with much elaboration, ** is me friend 
Harry Smith. I am Mr. Chub Foster, Esquire, 
at your service.” 


26 


The Street Singer 

There was a breezy, comical air about Chub 
that caused Mrs. Daily to smile, and made 
Phil laugh outright. 

Why,’’ cried Nan, that’s the first time 
in ever so long, that I’ve heard Phil laugh 
aloud.” 

“ I always said,” declared Mrs. Daily, 
pleasure shining in her face, that if he had 
boys about him he’d be brighter than he is.” 

“ Mother,” said Nan, after a little pause, 
“I’ve brought you two lodgers for the attic 
room.” 

“Is it these two boys?” exclaimed Mrs. 
Daily. 

“ Yes’m,” put in Chub, “ we’re the 
parties. We don’t object to being shoved up 
next the roof so long as the rent ain’t shoved 
up, too. We can pay a dollar a week, and we 
can pay it every week.” 

“ But,” said Mrs. Daily, “ where are your 
parents ? ” 

“ I never knew mine,” answered Chub 
soberly. “I’ve lived along the wharves and 


27 


The Street Singer 

in lodging houses ever since I run away from 
the poor house — and that was a long time ago. 
As for Harry here/^ and he looked earnestly at 
his friend, who had stood timidly in the back- 
ground during all this, why, I don't know if 
he's got any folks or not." 

Harry started impulsively forward at this, 
and seemed about to speak ; but Chub 
stopped him almost angrily. Then the latter 
continued : 

** If he has, he don't know where they are." 

Well," said Mrs. Daily, ** it's a sad, sad 
thing for two bits of boys like the two of ye, 
to be without sorra the one to take care of ye. 
Ye could have the room and welcome, but how 
do I know that ye haven't run away from 
home?" 

From home I " Chub laughed. “ Why, I 
never had any to run away from. I only 
wish I had," soberly. “ It must be nice to 
have one." 

Phil was watching Harry with big, serious 
eyes. The delicate face, the fair curls, the 


28 The Street Singer 

wistful expression appealed to the sick boy, 
as they had appealed to his sister. He leaned 
suddenly toward his mother. 

Give them the room/^ said he, in a low 
voice. This,” pointing to Harry, is a good 
boy.” 

“ And how about yours truly ? ” demanded 
Chub, quickly. 

Why,” said Phil, his eyes searching the 
round, frank face of the speaker, you 
canT be bad ; you take care of your friend, 
don't you ? ” 

“ I try to,” answered Chub. 

“ He does take care of me,” said Harry, 
eagerly. “ I should never have had anything 
to eat if it hadn't been for Chub; and I'd 
have had to sleep in wagons and in door- 
ways.” 

“ Bless and save us I ” ejaculated Mrs. Daily. 
“ Two weeney lads to lead such a life. It's 
awful, so it is I ” 

Can they have the room, mother ? ” asked 
Nan, anxiously. 


29 


The Street Singer 

** I suppose they can. Phil says they are 
good lads and I never see Phil wrong in his 
judgment of any one.” 

Terms were soon agreed upon, and then as 
they sat about the fire, Nan told how she had 
met the two boys. 

To be out on such a night, and without a 
home,” cried Mrs. Daily, when she had lis- 
tened to all her daughter had to tell. You 
did right, Nanny, to bring them home to 
your mother.” 

I was glad to have them with me,” said 
Nan, seriously. 

Why?” asked Phil. 

Although it^s often ten when I leave my 
work,” said the girl, the streets are so well 
lighted that I^m never afraid. But to- 
night ” 

She paused, and Chub bent forward with 
interest. 

Yes,” said he, to-night ? ” 

I was afraid,” confessed Nan. If I 
hadnT had you two boys with me, and if you 


30 The Street Singer 

hadn^t made me get on a car with you, I 
don’t know what I should have done.” 

“ Why, Nan, why ? ” cried Phil. 

Because,” answered Nan, in a low voice, 
'' all along the street there was some one 
behind us — following us — watching every 
motion.” 

Nanny I ” exclaimed her mother. 

“ It’s true,” said Nan, quietly. 

There was a sudden, swift movement ; Nan 
turned to find Harry, white-faced and with 
closed eyes, lying in Chub’s arms. 

“ He’s fainted,” cried the girl. 

Don’t get scared,” said Chub, coolly, ** he 
often does this. He’ll be better in a minute. 
Chuck some water in his face.” 

Cold water was sprinkled in the boy’s face, 
and he came to with a long shuddering 
breath. He stared about him, bewildered, 
for a moment ; then things came back to him 
and he turned a frightened face toward Nan. 

Did you see him, too ? ” he asked eagerly. 
“ I thought I did several times, but Chub 


The Street Singer 31 

said no, when I whispered to him. Tell me, 
truly, did you see him ? ” 

“ She didn't see anything ! ” exclaimed 
Chub, roughly ; “ and you didn't either. 
The first thing you two know you'll have one 
another scared into fits." 

He was proceeding to read the smaller boy 
a severe lecture, while Nan and her mother 
exchanged looks of astonishment ; but sud- 
denly he was interrupted by the voice of Phil. 

Listen," cried the lame boy, gesturing for 
silence. Listen — at the door." 

A hush fell upon them, and all eyes were 
fixed upon the door. Phil whispered : 

I heard some one knocking." 

The words were no sooner spoken than 
there came a faint tapping at the door, so low 
and indistinct as to be almost unnoticeable. 

Mrs. Daily and Nan exchanged frightened 
looks ; then the former arose and advanced 
toward the door. 

** Wait ! wait I " It was Harry that spoke 
and his face was filled with wild alarm. He 


32 


The Street Singer 

sprang up and grasped Mrs. Daily^s hand. , 
Don't open the door, Mrs. Daily. Let Chub : 
do it. He ain't afraid ; and then Chub 
always opens the door when he comes." 

Mrs. Daily stared at the boy in wonderment. 

Chub always opens the door when who 
comes ? " 

Harry seemed about to answer the good 
woman's question ; but Chub was at his side 
before he could do so and had clapped a hand 
roughly over his mouth. 

Hush ! " he exclaimed, angrily. Then he 
turned to the others and continued, ** Don't 
mind the kid ; he gets this way whenever 
he's scared. He don't know what he's say- 
ing." 

He whispered something in Harry's ear, 
and then pushed him hurriedly into a chair. 

A few quick steps brought him to the door, 
and he threw it open, admitting a gust of 
wind and a flurry of snow. A tall man, muf- 
fled and covered with feathery flakes stood 
upon the stoop ; in his hand he held a card. 


The Street Singer 33 

Does Chub Foster live here ? he asked. 

He don^t — not yet/^ answered Chub, 
shortly. But I think he’s going to.” 

The man looked at the boy closely. Over 
Chub’s shoulders could be seen the faces of 
Mrs. Daily and Nan, full of wondering aston- 
ishment, but the person upon the stoop took 
no notice of them. 

I think you are the boy,” said he. 

“ I am,” said Chub, boldly. “ And I think 
I’ve seen you somewhere before.” 

**You have seen me upon three different 
occasions,” said the man. ^‘And, as upon 
each of those, I give you this.” 

He held out the card and Chub took it 
silently ; then, without another word, the 
man turned and walked away. Chub closed 
the door. 

Well, I never did ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Daily. 

What can it mean ? ” cried Nan. 

‘‘The card ! ” spoke Mrs. Daily ; “ what does 
it say ? ” 

Chub hesitated for a moment ; then, with a 


34 


The Street Singer 

reckless shrug of the shoulders, he held the 
card so that all could see it. 

It was plain white bristol and across the 
face of it was written in a heavy, crabbed 
hand : 

“ Ten Months from To-night.^' 


CHAPTER III 


TALKING IT OVER 

Nanny,” said Mrs. Daily next morning. 

** Yes, mother.” 

** There are some things about these two 
boys that I don^t like.” 

“Oh, but, mother ” 

“ Arrah, now, Nanny, let your old mother 
say what she's going to say, and don't be in- 
terrupting her.” 

“ Very well.” Nan gave her mother a good- 
humored hug, and listened, patiently. 

“ The boys themselves seem to be nice little 
felleys. The smallest is a soft-hearted, deli- 
cate craytur ; and while the other. Chub, as 
he calls himself, is rough, he's good-hearted.” 

“ I'm sure he is,” said Nan. 

“ But,” continued Mrs. Daily, “I don't just 
care about the idees they give me. To have 
two lodgers drop in on ye in the dead hour 
35 


36 The Street Singer 

of the night is bad enough, but when they 
have people following them in the street, and 
knocking on the door at midnight to ask if 
they live here, and handing in cards with 
foolishness written on them, why, child, it^s 
more than I can understand/^ 

“ It is strange,’’ admitted Nan. ** But do 
you think, mother, that the man I noticed in 
the street and the one that knocked on the 
door are the same ? ” 

No one could tell me anything else ! ” 
declared Mrs. Daily, firmly. Nanny, we 
are daysint people, but we have a mystery in 
the house with us.” 

** A mystery ! Why, mother I ” 

Oh, ye can open your two eyes and laugh 
all ye want, but what I’m telling ye is so. If 
there was nothing to hide, why did the big- 
gest of the two boys keep silencing the little 
one every time he tried to open his mouth ? 
Tell me that, ye smart young lady.” 

''What you say is true.” Nan went on 
drying the breakfast dishes at the kitchen 


37 


The Street Singer 

table and seeming to turn the matter over 
seriously in her mind. I noticed Chub's 
way with Harry even at the lunch room. He 
seems to be always on guard over him, and 
rather angry because he has not grown-up 
ways.'' 

** Depend upon it," said Mrs. Daily, with 
a wise shake of the head, they are hiding 
something." 

“ You don't think they did run away from 
home, do you, mother? " 

“ I did think so, at first. But I've changed 
my mind, since. When Chub said he'd never 
had a home, he told the truth, I feel sure. 
But what they are keeping from us, Nanny, 
is queerer than running away from home, by 
a good bit. Did ye take heed to what Harry 
said when he begged me not to open the door? " 
I forget," answered Nan. 

‘‘ He said : * Chub always opens the door 

when he comes.' " 

“ Yes ; I remember, now," said Nan. 

And didn't the man himself say that he'd 


38 The Street Singer 

called on these two lads three times in the same 
queer way, and each time left one of his silly 
cards ? 

But, mother, it might not be as silly as 
you think/^ 

“ What else could it be ? Didn^t I put on 
me specs and read it for myself? It said : 
‘ Ten months from to-night,’ and nothing 
more. Sure, what is a body to make out of 
that? ” 

But the boys seemed to understand it, 
somehow.” 

'' Well, if they did, they kept it well to 
themselves. Faix, Mr. Chub Foster can keep 
his tongue between his teeth as well as the 
next, mind ye that ! ” 

Perhaps if Mrs. Daily had been able to see 
the attic room and its two youthful occupants 
at the moment in which she spoke these 
words, her opinion as to the likelihood of 
there being something unusual in regard to 
the lads would have been strengthened. 

Chub sat at one side of a plain wooden 


39 


The Street Singer 

table, his elbows upon it and his clinched 
fists under his chin. He was looking at 
Harry, who sat opposite him, with an expres- 
sion of great severity. The younger boy’s 
face was fiushed and there were tears in his 
eyes. 

But, Chub,” he was saying, why must I 
not say anything? ” 

Just because you’ve got to, that’s all.” 

I don’t like it. It makes me feel mean.” 

It don’t make any difference how it makes 
you feel, you’ve got to do it. You don’t have 
to tell everybody everything you know.” 

I suppose not. Chub. But, then, I feel 
sometimes that I must tell somebody.” 

** Well, when you feel that way come and 
tell it to me.” 

But you know all about it already.” 

I know I do, and that’s what makes it all 
right. People that ain’t already in on this 
must be kept out.” 

Chub paused a moment ; then he leaned 
across the table and inquired : 


40 


The Street Singer 

'' Do you know what it'll be if too many 
folks get mixing up in this thing? " 

No, Chub." 

It'll be dangerous, that's what it'll 

be." 

Dangerous ! " Harry grew a little pale at 
the word and looked at Chub with big, round 
eyes. How dangerous. Chub ? " 

I don’t know. And that's the worst of it. 
If it was the kind of a thing that a feller was 
used to, it wouldn't be so bad. But it 
ain’t; it's one of the sort that comes when 
you ain't thinking about it, and hits you 
quick." 

Do you think. Chub, that there is some- 
body that wants to hurt us ? " 

“ I don't know, kidsy," answered the young 
street singer, soberly. “ I hope not ; but I sort 
of had an idea that there is somebody back in 
the dark where we can't see him, that's got 
something up his sleeve for us." 

Do you think. Chub, that it's — him ? " 
Harry pointed with one finger at the win- 


41 


The Street Singer 

dow ; it was a gesture that might have meant 
all outdoors, but Chub seemed to understand. 

** You mean the man that came last night ? 
said he. 

Yes,^^ said Harry in an awed tone. 

“ I kind of think he's got something to do 
with it — else why does he come, this way, to 
every place we go ? " 

Whenever we move into a new place,” said 
Harry, “ he always comes, and he always asks 
for you.” 

But he don't want me, though,” said 
Chub. It's you he wants to know about, 
but he ain't mentioning any names that 
oughtn't to be mentioned. He knows that 
wherever I am, you'll be.” 

** He must follow us all the time I ” Harr}^ 
exclaimed. If he didn't he wouldn't know 
where to come for us so quick.” 

If I was bigger,” threatened Chub, I'd 
hit him a dig in the ribs, and show him 
what's what.” 

He put his hand into his coat pocket and 


42 The Street Singer 

drew out a small packet, carefully tied with 
strong cord. 

“ I might as well put this new card along 
with the others/’ said he, cheerfully. Chub 
was not one to be cast down for any length of 
time. The strange visitor of the night before 
had awed Harry, but had only a fleeting effect 
upon the hardier and elder lad. Chub Foster 
had spent his days in the streets, and had 
mingled with the many sorts of life that 
swarm there almost unnoticed of the great 
world ; a boy of this class is not so readily 
frightened by a thing which presents itself 
strangely ; he has grown accustomed to 
strange things ; they might interest, but sel- 
dom alarm him. 

Chub unwrapped the length of cord, opened 
the paper and took out three cards exactly 
similar in shape to the one handed him the 
night before, only the words written upon 
each were different. 

I guess,” observed Chub, '' the feller that 
writes these ain’t any better at writing than I 


43 


The Street Singer 

am. He don^t write much at a time, any- 
how. Here's the one he brought the first 
time — you remember that night? " 

Yes," answered Harry, looking fearfully 
at the cards. 

“ I thought he was crazy when he came 
into Dutch Pete's lodging house, woke us up, 
and stood beside the bed, looking down at us." 

“ Pete shouldn't have let him in," cried 
Harry. 

** I guess he must have been asleep in the 
office beside the stove, and the man came 
right up-stairs and found us. ^ Are you Chub 
Foster?' says he. *Yes,' says I. Then he 
hands me this card, takes a good, long look 
at you and goes out." 

The card selected by Chub had written 
upon it the single word : 

Remember." 

I never could understand it," said Harry. 

“ We have something to remember, haven't 
we — you and me ? " 


44 


The Street Singer 

“ Yes, we have, Chub/^ 

“ Well, we're going to remember it. And 
we don't want any men giving us their cards 
about it." 

“ The next time he came," said Harry, 
^^was when we left Dutch Pete's and slept, 
during the summer, on the lumber at Wal- 
dron's wharf." 

Yes ; he came at night again, and woke 
us up," complained Chub, and handed out 
another card — this one," selecting another. 
“ It's a good thing he don't come oftener or 
we'd never get any snoozing done." 

The second card bore the words : 

** Be Silent." 

The two boys looked at this, for a time, as 
they had often done before. 

I don't know what he gave us this for," 
said Chub at last. “ But it's a good thing to 
do, though — only it ought to read : ‘ Keep 
your mouth shut.' " 

As soon as it got too cold for us to sleep 


45 


The Street Singer 

on the lumber pile/^ said Harry, we went to 
lodge at the River House, and then he came 
with the other card.’^ 

I woke up and found it under my pillow 
with my money, said Chub, vexedly. 

There wasn't anything missing, but I don't 
like that kind of thing. A feller don't know 
where he stands." 

Card number three bore the legend : 

“ The Time is Coming." 

After this one came," continued Chub, 
you got so scared that I couldn't hold you. 
And from that time on we slept at a different 
place every night so's he couldn't get near 
us." 

But he knew where we were all the 
time, I feel sure," said the younger boy. 

It looks like it," admitted Chub. For 
no sooner do we land here than he's on deck 
with his little old card." 

It says ‘ Ten months from to-night,' " 
said Harry, in a low voice. 


46 


The Street Singer 

“ And last night was the fifteenth of Jan- 
uary/^ said Chub. 

They stared at each other in silence for a 
long time; it was very evident that even 
Chub was impressed. 

On the night of the fifteenth of Novem- 
ber,” said Harry, first to break the silence, 
we’re to ” 

Chop it ! ” directed Chub, sternly. Chop 
it, right there I Never you mind what’s to be 
done on November fifteenth. When that time 
comes around we’ll do what’s to be done, but 
we ain’t going to talk about it beforehand.” 

“It wouldn’t be any harm to talk of it just 
between ourselves, would it?” 

“ It might ; and we ain’t taking any chances. 
We don’t know what’s going to happen — so 
many funny things have happened already. 
But,” and Chub folded his arms on the table 
and sunk his chin on them while he regarded 
Harry steadily, “ let’s get down to what we 
were coming to at first. What’s your name ? ” 
“ Harrison Mand ” began the younger 


The Street Singer 47 

lad, quickly. But a frown from Chub stopped 
him. 

‘‘ No it’s not,” said the latter decidedly, 
‘‘your name’s nothing but just plain Harry 
Smith. Do you get me? ” 

“ Yes, Chub,” answered the other, meekly. 

“ Now, what’s your name ? ” asked Chub. 

“Harry Smith,” came the reply, hesitatingly. 

“ That’s all right,” approved Chub, “ only 
you want to say it as though you believed it 
yourself I know you don’t like to tell fibs,” 
patronizingly, “ and that’s all right for a kid 
like you ; but this ain’t a very bad one and 
you don’t have to tell it only when people 
make you.” 

Chub’s training in the streets of a great city 
had had its shortcomings in some strictly 
moral respects. A small boy who lives by the 
chance of the moment is like a little animal, 
knowing no higher law than that of bare self- 
preservation. Falsehood comes to him as a 
ready and easy means of defence against aggres- 
sion, and he seizes upon it instantly in those 


48 The Street Singer 

cases in which swift running or hard fighting 
will do no good. 

Chub had always classed those boys who 
exhibited a determination to tell the truth 
upon all occasions as “ tony kids.^^ But 
Harry^s case he had, somehow, regarded dif- 
ferently ; indeed. Chub considered Harry an 
exceptional case in many ways. He felt con- 
fident that the smaller boy did not cling to 
the truth in order to ‘‘show ofF^^ as he was 
inclined to suspect some others of doing, but 
through a sincere love of it, even in very small 
things. At first Chub had looked and listened 
in amazement ; at last he grew to understand. 
The truth was something to be proud of ! He 
had experimented several times with it, in 
places in which a falsehood would have, ap- 
parently, served him better. And he found 
the sensation not unpleasant. 

“ Your name to-day, to-morrow and every 
day until the fifteenth of November,^^ said 
Chub, “ is just plain, common, everyday 
Harry Smith.^^ 


The Street Singer 49 

“ All right, Chub,'^ agreed the other, with a 
wistful tremble of the lip. 

“ It's settled, then, is it? " asked Chub. 

“ I’ll tell anybody that asks me,” said 
Harry. 

You’re just a kid with no folks. And 
your name is Harry Smith.” 

** Until the fifteenth of November, Chub ! ” 

That’s right. Until the fifteenth of 
November. And after that your name will 
be ?” 

Harrison Mandeville Carlyle ! ” cried the 
youngster, eagerly. 

It’s a big name for a small kid,” com- 
mented Chub, but if they gave it to you, 
why I guess you’ll have to wear it. And it 
fits you, too, somehow ; when you say it, it 
kind of makes you straighten up and look 
chesty. If it was some other kind of a kid 
that had a handle like that I’d want to give 
him a sassy slap.” 

Harry laughed at this. 

“ It’s not such a bad name, though. Chub,” 


50 The Street Singer 

he declared. “ I like it, I guess, because it’s 
my own/^ 

“ Well, we'll forget it, now," said Chub, 
rising. “ What we want to get busy at, is 
breakfast. I feel as if I hadn't had anything 
to eat for a week." 


CHAPTER IV 


IN THE ATTIC ROOM 

The room which Mrs. Daily had rented to 
Chub and Harry was directly under the roof, 
and upon one side the ceiling slanted to the 
floor. It contained a good-sized bedstead 
with mattress and blankets, also a few chairs, 
a lounge, a cooking stove and a table. 

“ If we had some dishes and things,’^ said 
Chub, after they had returned from the eating- 
house where they had had breakfast, “ we 
could start housekeeping. Here^s the stove, 
all ready, and we'd get along without a re- 
frigerator; for there's a low roof just outside 
the back window which we could put the 
grub on. It would be cool and nice there, all 
right." 

“Suppose we do it," cried Harry, enrap- 
tured with the notion. 

51 


52 


The Street Singer 

“Let’s ask Mrs. Daily, first,” said Chub, 
wisely. “ Ladies know a heap about these 
things.” 

They descended the stairs. There came a 
busy whirring of a sewing machine from a 
corner of the kitchen, where Nan sat dili- 
gently stitching away at a new frock. At the 
table Mrs. Daily was kneading the dough for 
a batch of bread, while Phil sat in his 
wheeled-chair and watched her. 

“ Is it going out ye are ? ” inquired Mrs. 
Daily, as she scattered some flour over her 
kneading-board. 

'' Not yet,” answered Chub. We just 
came down to collect a little information.” 

What about ? ” 

About cooking,” answered Chub. 

What in the world do boys want to know 
about cooking?” cried Nan, turning upon 
them. 

“ We thought,” said Chub, sitting down 
beside the Are and coolly crossing his legs, 
“ that we could cut down expenses if we 





“DID YOU EVER COOK ANYTHING?” SHE ASKED 





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The Street Singer 53 

cooked our meals on the stove up in our 
room.'^ 

Mrs. Daily regarded him with eyes that 
twinkled. 

Did you ever cook anything? she asked. 

She, of course, expected to hear him say, 
“ No ; but to her astonishment, he replied : 

Sure, I have. I was the assistant grub- 
handler on a tugboat once. I cooked every 
kind of stufF.^' 

And did none of the boatmen die ? ” de- 
manded Mrs. Daily, laughing. 

Not them. It would take more than poor 
cooking to kill those fellers,” returned Chub, 
good-humoredly. “ When I put the hash on 
the table to ’em they just turned to and put it 
away. I used to eat it myself, and it wasn’t 
so bad.” 

Oh, then, you were a sailor, weren’t you? ” 
said Phil. 

“ Not quite,” answered Chub. A cook on 
a tug is a long distance from being a sailor. 
But I did try to get into the navy one time.” 


54 


The Street Singer 

“ And why didn’t you ? ” asked the lame 
boy, eagerly. He had seen the sea but once, 
and loved it with all his heart. 

“ They wouldn't take me because I was too 
young. They oughtn’t to blame a feller for 
that, ought they ?” 

“ I should think not,” said Phil. 

When Mrs. Daily and her daughter saw 
that Chub was in earnest about the house- 
keeping idea, they gave the lads some prac- 
tical advice, which was soon put into use. 

The two sallied out to the nearest grocery 
and purchased the things that they would re- 
quire, and Chub begged an empty box from 
the man at the store. With this he built a 
sort of closet upon the tin roof under their rear 
window, in which he proposed to store those 
articles of food that required a lower tempera- 
ture than that of the attic. A visit to another 
store put them in possession of some coarse 
crockery ware and knives, forks and spoons. 

'' They’re not much to look at, but they’ll 
hold the grub, all right,” said Chub, “ and 


The Street Singer 55 

that’s the main thing. We ain’t going to 
invite any swells to dine with us just yet.” 

About noon all was ready for their venture 
in housekeeping ; they had a roaring fire in 
the stove, and Chub presided over it, his coat 
off, his sleeves rolled up, and a big iron fork 
in his hand. 

If you only had a white jacket and a cap, 
you’d look like one of those chefs that they 
have cooking cakes in the window of the 
place where Nan Daily works,” remarked 
Harry, as he sat upon the window-sill and 
watched proceedings with much interest. 

This stuff,” said Chub, pointing to the 
steaming kettles, “ is going to be better than 
the cannon shots that they make. After I’ve 
done the cooking for a couple of weeks, kidsy, 
you’ll be so fat that they won’t know you.” 

As a cook Chub proved as great a success 
as he claimed he would ; and always after 
that, while they remained at Mrs. Daily’s, 
they prepared what they ate. 

I’ve ate some of his things,” said Mrs. 


56 The Street Singer 

Daily one day to a neighbor. And not 
much better could I do meself, and Vwe 
cooked for quality people before I was mar- 
ried.” 

Each night the boys were on the street, and 
Chub’s clear, beautiful voice charmed the 
coins from the pockets of those who paused 
to listen. It was remarkable, the watch he 
kept upon Harry ; never once did he allow 
the younger lad to stray from his sight. He 
posted him in some sheltered place while the 
singing was in progress, and always in a spot 
which was directly under his eyes ; if Harry 
desired to go for a walk during the day Chub 
was sure to accompany him, like a faithful 
watch-dog. 

Don’t ever let him jolly you into allow- 
ing him out alone,” Chub warned Mrs. Daily 
one day. 

“Sure, he’s big enough not to get lost,” 
said Mrs. Daily. “ He knows the neighbor- 
hood.” 

“I ain’t thinking about that,” Chub in- 


57 


The Street Singer 

formed her. “ He'd find his way back, all 
right, if he went out — providing he was 
allowed to." 

** What do you mean ? " asked the good 
woman, amazed at these words. 

“ I mean just what I say," returned Chub. 
“ If you'll help me to keep an eye on him, 
while he's in the house. I'll be ever so much 
obliged to you." 

“ I'll do it, and welcome," said Mrs. Daily, 
promptly. ** Sure it's meself that would be 
very sorry to see anything happen to the little 
felly. He's a nice boy, so he is, and Phil is 
just wrapped up in him." 

The neighborhood in which Rainbow Alley 
lay was a poor one, but by no means a slum. 
The residents were mostly all hard working 
people ; however, there were some few who 
were not. And it was Chub's luck to have 
an experience with a gathering of these before 
he and Harry had been living at Mrs. Daily's 
a week. 

It happened late one night. Chub only 


j8 The Street Singer 

sang at night, and sometimes he was com- 
pelled to remain out very late in order to 
earn enough to meet the day’s expenses. He 
had paused at a street stand to buy some 
fruit; Harry had hurried on, for the night 
was cold, and he shiveringly thought of the 
warm fire that Mrs. Daily was sure to have 
in the kitchen range. 

“ How much ? ” asked Chub of the Italian 
who kept the stand. 

The man left off warming his hands at the 
peanut roaster and approached. 

Oranges, thirty cents a dozen,” he replied. 
Whew, you don’t want much ! ” Chub 
was an excellent buyer, and delighted in little 
tilts with the street venders with whom he 
did business. 

“ Good-a orange,” explained the Italian. 

Much-a da juice. Fine ! ” 

But not at thirty cents a dozen,” said 
Chub with an air of wisdom. I can get ’em 
for twenty from Donovaldo at the next cor- 


ner. 


59 


The Street Singer 

Donovaldo no good I ** cried the man. 
“ He cut-a da price. He sell-a da bad stuff. 
Sure.” 

“ His oranges are bigger than these,” main- 
tained Chub. 

The Italian grew greatly excited and ges- 
ticulated with both hands. 

Bigger den dis-a one ? No, no I Da ship 
he don’t bring no bigger. That’s a cinch. 
Sure I ” 

'' Say,” laughed Chub, “ you can almost 
talk American, can’t you ? ” 

Si. Talk him very well.” 

Well, because of that I’d rather give my 
business to you than to Donovaldo. He talks 
nothing but Guinney. Put these oranges 
in at a quarter and we’ll call it a deal.” 

No, no ! ” cried the man. ** I lose-a da 
mon. Da price of him is thirty cent I ” 

Chub was in the midst of a long argument 
with the Italian, when suddenly the stillness 
of the night was split by a shrill cry from 
some distance up the street. With a sudden 


6o 


The Street Singer 

feeling of panic and a quick gasping for breath, 
Chub recognized the voice of Harry. 

Like a startled hare he darted in the direc- 
tion of the cry. Chub was a remarkable run- 
ner, and his feet pat-patted on the frost-hard- 
ened sidewalk like drops of rain. The Italian 
stood by the curb, forming a megaphone with 
his hands, and shouting to the running boy 
to come back and take the fruit at his own 
price. 

But Chub did not hear. His whole atten- 
tion was centered straight ahead, his eyes 
trying to penetrate those deep shadows which 
the street lamps did not banish. 

Then suddenly he discovered Harry. In a 
dark court were clustered a half-dozen hulk- 
ing young rascals of the neighborhood, and 
the lad was in the midst of them, white-faced 
and frightened. 

DonT take any of his gufF,^^ cried one of 
the young men. He^s got the money on 
him. I know he always carries it, for I’ve 
seen the other kid give it to him, often.” 


6i 


The Street Singer 

“ Turn out your pockets,” ordered another. 

I won’t ! ” exclaimed Harry, bravely. 

The money is not mine.” 

It’s going to be ours in a couple of min- 
utes,” jeered still another. ** Catch hold of 
him, fellers.” 

They had just seized the lad when Chub 
dashed into the midst of them, panting and 
wild-eyed. 

Oh, I’m glad you’ve come. Chub,” cried 
Harry, as the men released him in sheer as- 
tonishment. “ They want to take your money 
from me.” 

They do, do they ? ” answered Chub, 
fiercely. Well, I’d just like to see ’em get 
busy at it, that’s all.” 

He glared around upon Harry’s assailants, 
his fists clinched, his attitude defiant. The 
men, who had now recovered from their sur- 
prise, laughed loudly. 

** Look at the bantam rooster,” said one. 

Yes, and he thinks his spurs are big 
enough for a Shanghai,” put in another. 


62 


The Street Singer 

“ He needs his comb cut, though,” said a 
third. And as we happen to have use for 
the bit of change that they are carrying on 
them, why I guess we’d better set about get- 
ting it. The cops might come down on us at 
any minute.” 

They closed in on the two boys ; Chub 
fought like a tiger cub, striking and kicking, 
and using his teeth in a fury. But he was 
swept off his legs in a moment and pinned 
to the ground, while Harry was being 
searched. 

However, before the footpads could find the 
night’s earnings, which Harry always carried 
in his breast pocket, a police whistle blew 
shrilly at the mouth of the court. With ex- 
clamations of dismay the men sprang up and 
vanished through a dark alley in the rear. 
Scrambling to their feet, the two boys rushed 
to where they supposed the policeman to be. 
But the street was silent and apparently de- 
serted ; the arc lamps hissed steadily ; the 
yellow glare of the gasoline torch at the fruit 


The Street Singer 63 

stand in the next block caught their eyes, 
but that was all. 

Wonderingly they turned and made their 
way toward Rainbow Alley. Every now and 
then Harry would glance nervously behind, 
down the length of the silent street. Sud- 
denly he clutched Chub by the arm and 
pointed dumbly. About a half-block away, 
under the rays of an electric light, could be 
seen the tall figure of a man. He wore a 
long coat and a black soft hat which was 
pulled down over his eyes, and he seemed to 
be watching them intently. 

Do you know him ? ” gasped Harry. 

Sure, I do,’^ answered Chub, coolly ; 
“ that^s the man that gives me the cards.” 


CHAPTER V 


CHUB TAKES A TRIP 

The winter and spring passed slowly away, 
and August came with little or no change in 
the condition of the two boys. If anything, 
they were neater and better clad than for- 
merly, for the kind-hearted Mrs. Daily and 
Nan took good care of them. 

But if the boys^ affairs had improved some- 
what, those of the Daily family had not. 
Phil grew very sick during the summer, and 
the small savings of the family went to pay 
for his doctor and medicine. Then Mrs. 
Daily, who did sewing at home, lost her em- 
ployment ; the same evening Nan returned 
home with the news that the lunch-room 
company for whom she worked was in diffi- 
culties, and had closed the doors of all its 

places pending a reorganization. 

64 


The Street Singer 65 

“ Trouble never comes singly,” quoted Mrs. 
Daily. 

But though she continued to struggle 
cheerfully through the weeks that followed, 
the anxious eyes of Phil, which seemed always 
upon her, saw through the pretense. 

“ She's awful worried,” the lame boy told 
Harry one day. She tries to hide it, and so 
does Nan ; but they both are afraid because we 
can’t pay the rent.” 

Harry lost no time in telling Chub of what 
Phil had said ; and Chub listened and con- 
sidered the matter for a long time. 

Mrs. Daily and Nan have done a lot for us, 
kidsy,” said he, at last, and if we could do 
anything to pay ’em back it would just tickle 
me to death.” 

“ It would be great,” declared Harry. 

** But people ain’t giving up much to hear 
me sing just now,” went on Chub ; and we 
haven’t anything like enough to pay two 
months’ rent for her.” 

We have forty cents,” remarked Harry, as 


66 The Street Singer 

he counted over the firm^s cash on hand. 
And the rent is twenty dollars.^’ 

Chub made a wry face. 

“ We’re nineteen-sixty short/’ said he ; 
“ and we haven’t ever had that much in our 
lives.” 

“ I don’t see how we can do anything to 
help,” said Harry. But, oh, if we only 
could. Chub, it would be fine ; wouldn’t it ! ” 
It would be that,” agreed the elder boy ; 
but it’s away past us, kidsy ; it would take a 
feller with a bank book to do any good in this 
thing.” 

On the evening of the same day Chub hap- 
pened to be in the grocery on the corner of the 
street. It was a clean little place, and Chub 
had formed a great liking for the old German 
who kept it. The boy had thought a great 
deal over Mrs. Daily’s trouble during the day, 
though, of course, he had said nothing to her 
about it ; and it must have shown upon his 
face, for the grocer said, as he tied up Chub’s 
small order : 


6 ? 


The Street Singer 

You look worried a liddle, ain^t it? ” 

Yes, I feel some like that,” returned the 

boy. 

Vot is der matter ? Vos you have a cold 
by your voice, yes ? ” 

No, the noise is all right. But IVe been 
wishing all day that I had some money.” 

Ah, ve all vish for dot. But our vishes 
don’t come true, very much,” laughed the 
grocer. 

I got to have twenty dollars in a lump,” 
said Chub. 

Dot’s a good bit of gelt.” 

“ I should say so. It’s more than I’ve ever 
owned. But I’d do anything to get it.” 

The old man leaned upon the counter and 
did not answer. There was a large placard 
hanging upon the wall, and his eyes roved 
over it absently. At last he uttered a laugh. 

If dot Ashland Fair Committee,” said he, 
“ had only offered a prize for singing, you 
would have a chance to got dot money vot you 
speak of.” 


68 


The Street Singer 

“ Ashland Fair Committee? ” repeated Chub. 
Somehow the name seemed to interest him 
greatly. 

‘'Yes; don’d you know about dot? Ah, 
veil, you cidy peoples don’d take no interest 
in such dings, I guess. I come from Ash- 
land ; I VOS a country Dutchman, und I re- 
member all der dings vot dakes place dere. 
Do you see dot pill on der vail ? Dot's about 
der fair vot opens to-morrow by Ashland. 
They vill give prizes for running und 
chumping and all sorts of dings. It vos a 
pully fair." 

Chub studied the placard with great 
thoroughness ; and after carefully reading the 
list of prizes that were offered for various 
events on the opening day, he turned to the 
grocer. 

What's the fare to Ashland ? " he inquired. 

“ Sixty cents," answered the man. 

Chub paid for his purchases and left the 
place. 

I want to earn a couple of dollars to- 


69 


The Street Singer 

night,” muttered he, as he made his way to 
the alley. It’s me for Ashland in the morn- 
ing. I want to look the place over, anyway ; 
and also I think I see twenty-five dollars up 
that way that’s just aching to pay Mrs. Daily’s 
rent.” 

Fortune seemed to be with him that night. 
A band of skylarking young men seized upon 
him as he stood singing upon a street corner ; 
for a half hour he ran through popular bal- 
lads for them, they joining thunderously in 
the chorus. Then one of them cried out : 

Now for the professor, gentlemen I ” 

He passed about his hat, and when it came 
back it held more than three dollars. 

I’m going on a little trip, Mrs. Daily,” 
said Chub next morning. “ I won’t be back 
till late to-night, and maybe not till to- 
morrow.” 

Am I to watch that Harry don’t go out?” 
inquired the landlady. 

Yes, if you please,” said Chub. told 
him not to ; but you know what kids are.” 


70 


The Street Singer 

You’d think you were an old man/’ said 
Nan, with a smile. 

“ I feel like it, sometimes. I’ve got a lot of 
’sponsibility to lug around with me, and if I 
only had a high hat to wear, people would 
take me for fifty.” 

He had given Harry the bulk of their little 
fund, only taking little more than enough 
for his car fare and lunch ; and 8:30 a. m. saw 
him boarding a train at the Terminal Station 
for Ashland. 



CHAPTER VI 


CHUB FOSTER IN A NEW LIGHT 

The headquarters of the manager of the 
Ashland Fair was a tent at the entrance, and 
Chub made his way there as soon as the train 
pulled in. 

Mr. Bronson, the manager, was seated at 
his desk, talking to a couple of rather flashy 
young men, when Chub entered. 

Are you the manager ? inquired the boy 
without any waste of words. 

Chub was, as a rule, not polite. His educa- 
tion of the streets did not include this branch. 
In his world, to be aggressive and semi-impu- 
dent was to be successful. 

“ Yes,^^ replied Mr. Bronson, turning and 
looking at the newcomer through his gold- 
rimmed spectacles. He was a stout, red-faced 
man, of much good humor, and Chub^s inde- 
71 


72 


The Street Singer 

pendent swagger tickled him. “ What can I 
do for you ? he asked. 

I want/' stated Chub, to run in the two- 
hundred-yard sprint." 

One of the flashy young men burst into a 
laugh. 

“ What, a kid like you ! " 

Chub regarded him with withering con- 
tempt. 

Where do you get off?" inquired he, 
protruding his chin and shoving his head 
forward like a young bull-terrier. I didn't 
know you was in this." 

Don't be impudent," scowled the young 
man. 

That ain't impudence," said Chub. If I 
was to get real impudent, I'd make your hair 
stand up and bring out goose-flesh all over 
you." 

These kids from the slums of the city are 
all alike," put in the other young man at this 
point. 

** There is only one like me in a package," 


73 


The Street Singer 

said Chub, stuffing his hands in his trousers 
pockets and leaning against the manager’s 
desk with great composure. 

One’s enough, I should think,” sneered 
the first young man, pulling down his striped 
cuffs and also endeavoring to look at ease. 
He saw Mr. Bronson leaning back in his 
chair and laughing silently at the lad’s quick 
answers ; this nettled him. 

“ Do you want to run in the sprint, really? ” 
inquired the manager of Chub, thinking it 
wise not to let the thing go further. 

Sure I I came all the way from the city 
to have a chance at the twenty-five. And 
I’m going to run if I have to do it on one 
leg.” 

You’ll need all the legs you have,” re- 
marked the flashy young man, unable to hold 
his tongue. 

Chub glanced at him, grinning. 

Say,” observed he, if you’re in the race 
I’ll make you look as though you were on 
crutches.” 


74 


The Street Singer 

“ I'd like to knock some of the smartness 
out of you with a buggy whip ! " 

“ Lots of people have tried to do that, and 
with all kinds of things. But none of 'em 
ever used a buggy whip. I don't know how 
you'd make out with that." 

“ Oh, don't bother with him. Court," broke 
in the other young man, seeing that his 
friend was likely to get the worst of this 
fencing. 

“ No ; he’d better not,” grinned Chub, im- 
pudently. He's not in my class." 

Then, turning to Mr. Bronson, who had 
been an amused listener to this brief war of 
words, the boy continued : 

“ Yes, sir ; I'd like to run in this race if I 
can. I need the money.” 

Do you think you can win ? ” smiled the 
manager, who had taken a fancy to Chub on 
the spot. 

“ I can try." 

“ Well, there is something in that, if you 
can run." Mr. Bronson opened a book and 


The Street Singer 75 

taking up a pen dipped it in the ink. The 
entrance fee will be one dollar.” 

Chub had not expected this. His sur- 
prise must have shown upon his face, 
for the two listening young men laughed 
loudly. 

That sticks him ! ” cried one. 

“ You^re asking too much, Bronson,” said 
the other sneeringly. A dollar is more than 
he ever saw at one time. IsnT there a ten- 
cent race on the list ? ” 

If he had,” said Chub, that^s the one 
you'd be in.” 

It was a wrench, but he drew out a one- 
dollar bill and handed it to Mr. Bronson. 

“ Here you are, sir,” he went on. “ Me 
name's Chub Foster, and I'm fourteen years 
old.” 

Mr. Bronson wrote down the name in the 
book ; and while he was doing so the person 
who had taken such a sudden dislike to Chub 
broke in again. 

** I say, Bronson ! ” cried he, in protest. 


76 The Street Singer 

You^re surely not going to enter him, are 
you ? ” 

I am,’’ said Mr. Bronson quietly, looking 
up. 

“ You’ll have the track so filled with 
people like him,” explained the other, 
“that really good boys will be crowded 
out.” 

“ I’m managing this afiair,” said Bronson, 
coldly. “ The race is open to all boys under 
seventeen, and I can bar no boy who comes 
up to the requirements.” 

“ But it’s foolishness,” maintained the 
young man. “ He can’t win ; look who’ll be 
against him.” 

“ There’s something in that,” said the stout 
manager of the fair. Turning to Chub, he 
went on kindly : “ There are some very fast 
runners entered in this race ; it’s not too late 
to change your mind, if you think of doing 
it. You can have your money back.” 

“ That’s fair, certainly,” said the young 
man, approvingly. 


The Street Singer 77 

Can I ask you a few questions ? ” inquired 
Chub of this latter. 

I suppose so,’^ suspiciously. 

You ain’t in this race, are you ? ” 

Well, hardly.” 

** I thought you looked over seventeen,” 
mocked Chub. 

I should hope so,” said the other, who, by 
the way, was growing a small mustache. 

Then,” said Chub positively, “ you've got 
some one else entered, I suppose ? ” 

“ I have.” 

Then I stay in,” grinned Chub. I'm 
going to beat the feller you've put up, no 
matter what happens.” 

He's got it in for you, Mr. Courtney,” 
smiled Bronson. 

So your name is Courtney, is it ? ” he asked. 

It happens so.” 

Live in Ashland ? ” 

None of your business.” 

Oh, all right. I guess you do. Is that 
all, sir ? ” turning to Mr. Bronson. 




The Street Singer 

That's all. The two hundred yards is set 
for two o'clock. Don't be late; we can't wait 
for you, you know." 

“ Til be on time, all right, sir," said Chub, 
cheerfully. He turned toward the flap of the 
tent ; but as he reached it he paused and 
turned a round, grinning face over his shoul- 
der at Courtney. 

So your name is Courtney, is it ? And 
you live here in Ashland ? Well, so long, 
Mr. Courtney ; I'll be sure to see you again." 

As is usual upon the opening days of county 
fairs, the grounds were crowded ; farmers for 
miles around were out for a holiday, their 
teams tied up under the sheds, themselves 
strolling about with their wives, seeing the 
sights. Side-shows were to be encountered 
upon every hand ; the tents were covered with 
gaudy, painted streamers, and a ‘^barker" 
stood in front of each entrance extolling the 
wonders to be seen within. Punch and Judy 
squeaked and squalled from a dozen different 
booths ; the rifles in a score of shooting gal- 


79 


The Street Singer 

leries cracked incessantly ; while fakirs of 
every class and degree shrieked forth the re- 
markable worth and cheapness of their respec- 
tive wares. In short, it was a typical fair, 
and the country folk enjoyed it immensely. 

Chub stopped at an open booth where a 
colored man had his woolly head stuck 
through a hole in a canvas sheet, offering it 
as a target for the baseballs which were being 
hurled at him by a crowd of laughing young 
men. 

Hold on a minute, Dave,’^ said a voice 
beside him. Do you see that old codger 
over there by the merry-go-round ? ” 

The stout old party with- the old lady be- 
side him ? 

That's the one. Well, just take a good 
look at him.” 

^^Why?” 

He's our man ; that's all.” 

You don't say ! ” 

Chub, at the first words spoken, had recog- 
nized the voice of Courtney, and looking up 


8o 


The Street Singer 

saw him and his equally flashy companion 
standing by the canvas wall of the booth. 
They could not have remained long in the 
manager's office after he had left, and had 
approached without his seeing them. Ap- 
parently they did not see him, either, for 
they continued talking in low, confldential 
tones, within a few feet of where the lad stood. 
He paid no attention to them, being more in- 
terested, boy-like, in the throwing of the base- 
balls at the human target. 

“So he^s the man we want, is he. Court 
asked the young man called Dave. 

“ That^s the man, all right.^^ 

Chub heard the words, though he was not 
listening. 

“ DidnT you say that your father must have 
the paper before a certain date? ” asked Dave. 

“ Yes.’^ 

“ How far off is the date ? ” 

“ The fifteenth of November. 

At this Chub started and uttered an ex- 
clamation. Young Courtney noticed him for 


8i 


The Street Singer 

the first time at this, and regarded him with 
a lowering look. 

Oh, it's you, is it? " said he. 

Sure," returned Chub. '' Did you think 
it was the president, from Washington ? " 

**What are you doing here?" demanded 
Courtney, roughly, grasping the lad by the 
shoulder. 

With all the agility and swiftness of his 
street training. Chub twisted himself free, 
and stared Courtney boldly in the face. 

You keep your hands off," ordered he. 

I guess I'll have to get a sign painted, same 
as they have on the grass plots in the park, 
and hang it around my neck for people like 
you." 

“ You answer my question," snarled Court- 
ney. What are you doing here? " 

** I've as much right here as you," answered 
Chub. 

You were listening to what I said." 

** Why didn't you whistle it, then, so's I 
couldn't understand it? " 


82 


The Street Singer 

“Don’t bother with him, Court,” put in 
Dave at this point, seeing that several persons 
near were enjoying the little passage between 
his friend and Chub. “Let the kid alone.” 

Courtney seemed only too glad to follow 
this advice, for he saw clearly that Chub was 
his master in repartee ; so he treated the lad 
to a black look, which only elicited a smile, 
and walked away with his friend. 

Chub was out of the crowd in a moment 
and gazing all about him. 

“ I wonder,” he whispered to himself, an 
anxious expression upon his round face, “ if 
there could be any ” He broke off sud- 
denly, then resumed : “ Where is that old 

man ? He was standing right there, only a lit- 
tle while ago, with that old lady. I remem- 
bered him as soon as I set eyes on him ; 
he’s the one that gave me the half-dollar that 
night last winter in front of the Terminal 
Station.” 

Chub walked all around that section of the 
grounds, his quick eyes searching in every 


The Street Singer 83 

direction for the stout old gentleman and the 
sweet-faced old lady ; but they were not to be 
seen, and regretfully he gave up the hunt at 
last. 

If I only could find what his name is,” 
sighed Chub, I’d be sure, then, that I’m 
right.” 

He walked about the other end of the en- 
closure, among the exhibits. A small Italian 
girl, her dark hair tied loosely in a scarlet hand- 
kerchief, was playing a violin in a rather out 
of the way place. Her dusky face wore a 
rather troubled look, and her black eyes 
seemed filled with unshed tears. 

Hello I ” cried Chub. “ What are you 
doing here, Marie?” 

The child saw him as he spoke and she 
smiled through the tears. 

Hello, Chub. You come-a to sing-a da 
song, eh ? ” 

She spoke with a pretty little accent that 
tickled Chub, for he grinned good-humoredly 
as he said : 


84 


The Street Singer 

And you come-a to play-a da fid, eh ? 

Please, Chub,” she pleaded. 

'' All right, Marie, Fll not make fun of you. 
Is your father at the fair ? ” 

‘^Si,” replied the child, *‘he is down-a 
there. He have-a Lorenzo and make-a da 
dance.” 

The child was Marie Neri, a girl Chub knew 
quite well ; she played her violin in the city^s 
streets, her small, dark face, her dusky Italian 
eyes, and the plaintive wailings of her instru- 
ment on lonely corners luring the nickels 
from the pockets of passers-by with much 
success. Her father exhibited a huge dancing 
dog, called Lorenzo, and of late had taken to 
frequenting places outside the city which 
promised a reward. 

How's business ? ” inquired Chub of 
Marie, in the highly important manner of 
one professional to another. 

I have made only five-a cent,” answered 
Marie sadly, exhibiting some coppers in her 
little tin cup. 


The Street Singer 85 

‘‘Your father won't whip you, will he?" 
asked Chub anxiously. 

“ No, no. He scold-a me much, maybe, 
but he never-a beat me," said the child 
proudly. 

“ That's good," said Chub cheerfully. 
“ That's better luck than some of the 
kids have, Marie, when they don't bring 
home the money." 

As he spoke, a thought seemed to occur to 
him, and he continued : 

“ I've got an idea, Marie." 

“ Yes? " questioned the Italian child. She 
had confidence in the sturdy, independent 
lad, for he had protected her many a time on 
the streets. “ What is he. Chub ? " 

“ If you're not doing much," said Chub, 
“ suppose we double up for about an hour : 
you play for me and I'll sing." 

“ All-a right," agreed Marie, eagerly. 
“ And we share-a da mon, eh ? " 

“ Yes," said Chub. “ We've tried it a couple 
of times before and we always made out well, 


86 The Street Singer 

didn’t we? Come along, then, down here 
where the crowd is.” 

Five minutes later they stood side by side 
and Marie drew her bow across the strings 
deftly and lightly. Chub’s surprisingly high 
and pure voice followed the music in a beauti- 
ful rush of melody ; like magic the throng 
pressed about them and listened, open- 
mouthed and open-eyed. 

As the boy finished his first song, he 
and the little violinist went among the 
applauding crowd to reap the harvest that 
they knew was due them ; as he was re- 
turning to the selected position for the 
next ballad Chub came face to face with 
the jolly, stout old man and the old 
lady for whom he had been searching a 
short time before. 

Hello,” said the old gentleman, with a 
jolly little chuckle that just suited him, “ take 
hold of this quarter, m}^ lad.” 

Chub did so without any ado. 

'' Thank you, sir,” said he. 


The Street Singer 87 

** Did I ever hear you sing before, do you 
know ? ” asked the old gentleman. 

Yes, sir, one night last winter, in front of 
the Terminal Station.” 

You were right, my dear,” said the old 
gentleman to his wife. 

I was sure I was,” she returned. 

They whispered for a moment together, and 
then the old gentleman said : 

I want to see you again, my boy, before 
you leave the grounds. Will you come to the 
manager's tent — say about three this after- 
noon ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Chub. 

“ My wife and I have something to say to 
you,” resumed the old gentleman, ^^and it 
may be something that will do you good.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Chub. “Ill be 
sure to come.” 

He was turning away to where he saw 
Marie waiting for him ; but suddenly he laid 
his hand on the old gentleman^s arm. 

“ Are you Mr. Crawford ? ” asked he. 


88 The Street Singer 

I am.” The old gentleman seemed sur- 
prised. 

Mr. Dawson Crawford? ” 

Yes.” 

Chub hesitated, then asked another ques- 
tion : 

“ You are a lawyer, too, ain't you? ” 

I am.” 

** Thank you, sir, again.” 

The boy pressed his way through the crowd 
toward the little Italian girl ; and as he did 
so he was saying to himself : 

That’s the man. It’s just what I thought. 
And this Courtney’s father is going to try to 
get from him what belongs to Harry. I 
wonder how it’s going to be done I I just 
wonder how.” 


CHAPTER VII 


HOW CHUB TOOK THE TWO HUNDRED YARDS 

In the course of an hour Chub and Marie 
collected four dollars^ worth of small coin 
from the crowd of sightseers at the Ashland 
Fair. Then the partnership dissolved and 
with his two dollars in his pocket the boy 
sought the track just in time to see the races 
begin. 

At exactly two o^clock the two-hundred- 
yard sprint was called, and the runners lined 
up for the start. They were a likely looking 
lot of lads and were greeted with a volley of 
cheers. With the exception of Chub, they 
were attired in the usual scanty running cos- 
tume, their white, well-muscled arms and 
limbs showing to good advantage. But 
Chub^s idea of getting ready for a race 
seemed to be merely the slipping off of his 
89 


90 


The Street Singer 

jacket and shoes and pulling his blue cap 
well down on his head. This, of course, at- 
tracted attention to him, and when his ex- 
treme youth and shabby clothing were noted 
the sympathy of the crowd began to go out 
to him. 

Beside Chub in the line was a lean youth 
in a scarlet jersey. He regarded Chub for a 
moment, then burst into a laugh. 

“ Say, Mr. Courtney,^^ he called, looking to- 
ward the stand, is this the kid you mean ? ” 

“ That's the chap," came young Courtney's 
voice from the stand. Run the legs off him, 
Leary." 

Leary grinned at Chub in a way that said 
as plainly as words that he intended to follow 
the advice just given him. Chub stared back 
at him composedly. 

Fine day," said Chub. 

Good day for the race," replied Leary, 
condescendingly. 

Race, did you say ? " inquired Chub, in 
apparent surprise. Where ? " 


91 


The Street Singer 

** Where I ” Leary stared at him in amaze- 
ment. Why right here on this track, that's 
where." 

Oh, this," said Chub, as though a light 
had just broken upon him. “ This won't 
be any race." 

** It won't? " cried the astonished Leary. 

** No ; it's going to be a gift. I've as good 
as got the money in the bank at this minute." 

** You think you're funny, don't ye ? " 
growled Leary. 

Who, me?" Chub turned an innocent 
face toward him. ** Do you think I am ? " 

You look funny, anyhow," jeered Leary 
with a glance at Chub's shabby clothes. 

Who ever heard of anybody running on a 
track in a rig like that. Bronson oughtn't 
to let you enter." 

“ Well," returned Chub, “ you see, this ain't 
to be a beauty show, and I guess Mr. Bron- 
son don't care much how I'm togged out." 
Chub grinned and nodded toward the scarlet 
jersey which Leary wore. “ Talking about 


92 


The Street Singer 

rigs, you^d make a swell danger signal for a 
railroad crossing/’ 

“If you don’t want to get punched,” 
growled Leary, “ you’ll shut up. I don’t let 
kids like you try to string me.” 

“ I ain’t throwing out any line to get you 
on,” said Chub, good-humoredly. “ I’m here 
to gather in twenty-five dollars, and ain’t say- 
ing a word.” 

Here Mr. Bronson, who was to act as starter 
for this race, came down the line, dressing 
it up. 

“ Be honest, boys,” advised the stout man- 
ager ; “ to try to take advantage of each other 
is not right, and it will do you no good, any- 
way.” 

“ Are you entered by Courtney ? ” asked 
Chub of Leary as Mr. Bronson took his place 
at one side of the line. 

“ I am entered by Mr. Courtney,” replied 
Leary, freezingly. 

“ He’s the same party, I guess,” said the 
boy of the streets with unruffled coolness. 


The Street Singer 93 

** Well, I kind of made him a promise awhile 
ago/^ 

Yes, I heard you did,^^ sneered Leary. 

It ain’t just right for me to do it to an old 
friend like you,” continued Chub, “ but I’ve 
got to beat you to-day.” 

You’ve got too much to say for a kid,’ 
growled Leary, who was fully seventeen years 
of age. “ Wait till the sprint begins ; I’ll 
show you what’s what. You’re going to look 
as though you were nailed to the ground.” 

You ain’t going to run real fast, are you ? ” 
demanded Chub, with well-acted alarm. 

Leary grinned wider than ever. He fancied 
that he had Chub badly scared ; and Chub, 
the young imp, fairly shook with glee as he 
watched him. 

The line being arranged to his satisfaction, 
Mr. Bronson mounted a dry-goods box and 
ran his eye along the crouching forms of the 
youthful athletes. 

“ Get ready,” commanded he. 

Then the pistol sounded, and away they 


94 


The Street Singer 

went in a clump, Chub well toward the rear. 
At the twenty-five yards the less speedy ones 
began to drop back ; at the fifty there were 
only three that seemed likely to continue the 
burst of speed to the end. These were a 
swarthy youth from a neighboring farm, 
Leary and, to the apparent astonishment of 
all — Chub Foster. 

The latter had begun to push his way 
through the stragglers as they dropped back 
one by one ; and before the amazed spectators 
fully grasped the fact, he was running a good 
third. He was not exerting himself to any 
great extent ; he drew his breath in slowly 
through his nostrils and expelled it quickly 
through his mouth ; his chest did not labor 
in the least and his eyes were watchful and 
his brain clear to grasp an advantage. 

At the hundred yards the farm boy began 
to gasp and waver ; the pace was entirely too 
much for him, and in a quick burst of speed 
Chub passed him like a fiash. The street boy 
was now well upon the heels of the fiying 


95 


The Street Singer 

Leary, running low with arms flying, strength 
and beauty of action showing in each soft, 
swift step. Something must have warned 
Leary that a new and superior boy had taken 
the place of the farm lad directly behind 
him ; he gave a glance over his shoulder. As 
he recognized Chub his eyes gleamed, and set- 
ting his teeth he speeded along the cinder 
path in a spurt that drew him well away. 

But Chub was running with all the dogged 
resolution of his nature; to win he must 
breast the tape first, — to carry off the prize he 
must pass the lithe, flying youth ahead. All 
else faded from his mind ; he only saw Leary 
— a scarlet flash — a blur that must be over- 
taken — a panting, straining athlete whom he 
must conquer. With all his strength he 
spurted ; inch by inch he closed the gap be- 
tween them ; fifty yards from the finish they 
were running even. Chub's breath now came 
in great laboring sobs ; his chest seemed ready 
to burst, his flying feet scarcely touched the 
ground. But he strove on, with all the hardy 


96 The Street Singer 

courage of his experience, never faltering or 
wavering for a second. Though Chub did 
not know it, his rival had almost reached his 
limit ; a mist was beginning to swim before 
Leary's eyes and his feet seemed like lead ; 
but he ran on, panting and gasping, with a 
sickening feeling of defeat gradually assum- 
ing shape in his mind. Chub made a spurt 
and passed him ; fifteen yards from the finish 
Leary strove to do likewise, but his strength 
was gone, and Chub breasted the tape a good 
yard in the lead. 

Say," gasped he to the panting Leary, as 
the shouts of the gratified spectators rang in 
their ears, somebody must have pulled the 
nails up, Percy." 

'' Oh, you shut up," growled Leary. 
'' You're a ringer, that's what you are. I was 
onto you from the first, and I'm going to tell 
Bronson." 

Yes, that's what he is," came young 
Courtney's voice. This youth had climbed 
out of the stand and now swiftly approached. 






A GOOD YARD IN THE LEAD 


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The Street Singer 97 

his face red with anger. He^s a profes- 
sional.^' 

Who's a professional?" demanded Mr. 
Bronson, who had overheard these words. 

^^Why, this fellow here," said Courtney, 
pointing to Chub. 

Mr. Bronson laughed. 

** Oh, take your man's defeat good- 
naturedly, Mr. Courtney," cried he. “ Why, 
if it comes to that, all these lads are profes- 
sionals, your entry included. They have 
run for a money prize, and they are all in the 
same box." 

I know all that," said Courtney, growing 
redder under the laugh that went up from 
both sprinters and spectators. What I mean 
to say is that he's an old hand at the game." 

** What did you say your age was, sonny ? " 
asked Mr. Bronson, turning to Chub. 

Fourteen," answered the boy. 

** He can't be a very old hand," laughed Mr. 
Bronson, and those who stood within hearing 
joined him in his mirth. “ He couldn't have 


98 The Street Singer 

had a great deal of time to run races and get 
experience/^ 

“ Oh, he^s mad because I beat the feller he 
wanted to win,^^ said Chub, pulling on his 
coat. 

Yes, he^s a poor loser,” said the manager, 
smiling. “ But it^s his own affair. Come to 
the office and you can have the prize which 
you have won.” 

As Chub walked toward the tent with Mr. 
Bronson they encountered Mr. Crawford and 
his wife on their way to the same place. The 
old lawyer shook Chub’s hand when he heard 
of his victory, and seemed greatly elated. 

You have a pair of heels, too, have you, 
as well as a voice?” chuckled he. “Well, 
well ; I like to see a boy who can do things.” 

Young Courtney stood looking after Chub, 
an angry frown upon his brow, when a tall, 
smooth-shaven man came up to him. 

“ Well, Richard,” said the newcomer. 

“How are you, father,” returned Richard 
Courtney. 


The Street Singer 99 

I see Mr. Dawson Crawford is here at the 
fair,” said his father, also following the figures 
moving toward the manager's tent. 

Yes, sir, I've noticed him,” replied 
Richard. Suddenly he felt his father's hand 
upon his shoulder in a trembling clutch; 
turning he stared surprisedly up into his face 
and saw that it was gray, drawn and startled. 

** What's the matter ? ” cried the son ; 
what is it? ” 

‘‘ That boy,” gasped Mr. Courtney. 

What boy?” 

The one there,” pointing toward Chub. 

Oh ! That's the one I was telling you 
about in the stand.” 

Not the one whom you thought over- 
heard what you said to Dave? ” 

The same.” 

** And he seems to be acquainted with 
Dawson Crawford.” 

Have you ever run across him before ? ” 
asked Richard curiously. 

have. He is the boy who ” here the 


L. OF C. 


lOO 


The Street Singer 

elder Courtney stooped and whispered the re- 
mainder of the sentence into his son’s ear. 

No ! ” cried Richard, apparently as- 
tonished and dismayed. 

It’s a fact,” said his father. It is the 
same boy.” 


CHAPTER VIII 

HOW CHUB MADE TWO FKIENDS 

Chub, all unconscious of the effect his 
presence at the side of Mr. Crawford oc- 
casioned, entered the manager’s tent with that 
gentleman, his wife and Mr. Bronson. 

The latter paid over the twenty-five dollars, 
and Chub stuffed it carefully into a deep 
pocket where he knew it would be safe. 

I suppose you feel rich, now,” smiled Mrs. 
Crawford. 

** Yes’m,” said Chub. ** Maybe Mr. Craw- 
ford could tell me about some stocks that I 
could invest in.” 

The lawyer laughed. 

“ You’d better keep away from stocks, my 
lad,” said he, even when you have enough 
money to think of it in earnest.” 

101 


102 


The Street Singer 

I know they are bad things/^ said Chub, 
with an air of great wisdom. I heard of a 
man once who got in the habit of playing 
with them — and one time he took money 
that belonged to somebody else to try to get 
out even.^^ 

Mr. Crawford and his wife exchanged quick 
looks — full of longing, sorrow and deep 
regret ; it was as though they, too, had known 
of just such another instance ; and it seemed 
to give them pain. 

“ There are man}^ such cases,*^ said the old 
gentleman slowly ; “ and many of them 

darken innocent lives. But this case of which 
you speak, and there was an eager note in 
his voice ; did the man rob his em- 
ployer? ” 

No,'' said Chub, looking into the other's 
face with his quick, sharp glance, ** he robbed 
his father." 

Mrs. Crawford pressed her handkerchief to 
her eyes and sobbed ; her husband seemed 
greatly agitated. 


The Street Singer 103 

Hush, my dear,” said he, soothingly as he 
bent over her. 

Mr. Bronson came quickly to Chub^s side. 

Don't say anything like that, sonny,” 
whispered he. They can't bear it.” 

‘‘Why?” asked Chub. 

“ Oh, never mind that.” 

“ A feller would think,” said Chub, in a 
low tone, “ that they had a son themselves one 
time, who had done that.” 

Mr. Bronson hesitated, then said : 

“ Never mind. This sort of thing almost 
breaks their kind old hearts.” 

If he had not turned away as he spoke 
these words, the manager of the fair would 
have noted a look of triumph sweep into 
Chub's face ; but it was gone in a moment, 
and an expression of impulsive regret took 
its place. As he watched the old couple he 
muttered : 

“ I've found him out, all right ; and I guess 
it won't hurt the old lady so bad, for she 
looks like as if she was getting over it, already. 


104 The Street Singer 

Maybe if I was a man I could understand it ; 
for I guess kids can’t see things like this.” 

“ Now, Chub,” said Mr. Crawford after a 
little time, ** come over here and sit down. 
Mrs. Crawford and I desire to speak to you as 
I told you, earlier in the afternoon.” 

“ I will attend to some business in the 
grounds,” said Mr. Bronson, seeing that the 
old couple desired to be alone with the lad. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Bronson,” nodded the 
lawyer ; it is very kind of you.” 

When the manager had taken his departure 
from the tent, and Chub had seated himself 
before Mr. Crawford, expectantly, the latter 
began : 

** How old are you, Chub ? ” 

Fourteen, sir.” 

And how long have you lived on the 
streets ? ” 

“Do you mean how many times have I 
slept in the streets ? ” 

“ No ; I mean ” Mr. Crawford began, but 

his wife interrupted him. 


105 


The Street Singer 

One moment, Dawson, she said, hur- 
riedly, “ and pardon me.’' Then she turned 
her kind, wondering old eyes upon Chub. 

And have you — a mere child — slept in 
the streets ? ” she asked. 

Yes’m,” returned he, simply ; very often.” 

“ You had no home? ” 

No’m ; none that I could — that I could go 
to if I didn’t have the price.” 

I don’t think I understand you.” 

If I couldn’t pay for a bed in the lodging 
house they wouldn’t let me in.” 

Oh ! ” Mrs. Crawford laid her hand upon 
his shoulder in a sudden, soft gesture of pro- 
tection. “ That was very dreadful.” 

It wasn’t so bad,” smiled Chub, wonder- 
ingly. “ There was always wagons and sheds, 
and sometimes hallways that I could sleep in 
on cold nights. And then the cops wasn’t so 
bad, sometimes.” 

** And that night when we saw you first on 
the street, at the railroad station — where did 
you go then ? ” 


io6 The Street Singer 

‘^Oh, we got a beauty place that night. 
We've lived there ever since." 

‘^We?" questioned Mr. Crawford. *^Who 
do you mean by we ? " 

Why, I mean " began Chub ; but he 

suddenly paused, catching his breath and set- 
ting his lips firmly. 

Yes, you mean ?” 

I mean another kid who goes with me." 

“ What is his name ? " asked Mr. Crawford, 
just a little eagerly. 

Chub looked him directly in the face. 

“ He’s called Harry Smith," answered he. 

Mr. Crawford looked greatly disappointed ; 
but his wife patted him on the shoulder en- 
couragingly. 

“Have you known him long?" went on 
the old gentleman. 

“ Oh, yes ; a long — long time." 

“ Is he a — a street boy, also ? " 

“ I guess you could call him that." 

“ But, I suppose he knows who his parents 
were ? " Mr. Crawford was very eager now. 


The Street Singer 107 

“ YeSy” said Chub, coolly ; “ so do I/' 

Once more the old gentleman seemed dis- 
appointed; but once more his kind-eyed wife 
urged him to proceed. 

You know them, also, do you? said he. 

** They are dead, now,’^ answered Chub. 
“ But he has some folks, though. 

Does he ever visit them ? asked Mrs. 
Crawford. 

** No^m. You see they ain^t — they 
ainT ” 

‘^They are not very nice people, I sup- 
pose ? said the old lady, noticing his hesita- 
tion. “ Poor boy ! Perhaps he does well to 
keep away from them.^' 

** Oh, I know he does,’^ said Chub, earn- 
estly. I always keep telling him not to go 
near ^em. We can get along pretty well by 
ourselves. 

Mr. Crawford, who had been listening 
closely, once more took up his questions. 

“ How long have you lived about the city, 
Chub?^^ 


io8 The Street Singer 
“ All my life, sir/’ 

“You naturally become acquainted with 
many other boys, living the same sort of 
life as yourself, do you not? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir, quite a lot of ’em. There’s 
more poor kids than people know about, I 
can tell you.” 

“ And, I suppose, when a boy is thrown 
upon the world, without home or parents, he 
drifts into a sort of — well, a part of the city 
where those who are like him, live.” 

“Yes,” agreed Chub, “he does, I guess. 
They kind of clutter around the docks, look- 
ing out for jobs and things to eat. And at 
night they sleep in the lodging houses.” 

“ Do you know a boy who is called Harri- 
son Mandeville Carlyle ? ” 

Both the old lawyer and his wife bent to- 
ward the boy as the question was asked ; 
their faces exhibited expressions of the great- 
est anxiety and expectancy. It was clear 
that something of great importance rested 
upon Chub’s answer ; he looked at the 


The Street Singer 109 

floor as though considering ; then he re- 
plied : 

“ No ; I don’t know any kid called by that 
name, sir.” His words were literally true, for 
his friend, by Chub’s advice, was called Harry 
Smith. 

Are you sure?” asked the old gentleman, 
feverishly. “ Think again.” 

Go back,” pleaded the old lady, “ think 
of all the boys you have known on the street. 
He must be one of them.” 

“ I’ve known a good many of ’em, lady, 
but I don’t know any that goes by a name 
like that.” 

That the old gentleman and his wife were 
bitterly disappointed was very evident. Chub, 
as he watched them, felt an impulse to spring 
forward and tell everything — to confess that 
he did know the Harrison Mandeville Carlyle, 
and to allow the big sobs that arose in his 
throat to come honestly forth and the tears 
that sparkled on his lashes to fall. 

This old couple had been kind to him. His 


no 


The Street Singer 

refusal to answer their questions directly oc- 
casioned them sorrow and pain. But at the 
moment that Chub’s impulse to tell what he 
knew was strongest, memory flashed back a 
picture into his brain — a picture of himself as 
he knelt in a shabby room, beside a bed, hold- 
ing a white, wasted hand in both his own and 
promising in a trembling voice to guard the 
very secret which he was now tempted to 
reveal. 

He closed his lips in a tight, straight line, 
his head sank, and he doggedly stared at the 
floor ; and he was still standing so when Mrs. 
Crawford approached him. 

We are very sorry that you can tell us 
nothing,” she said. “ You see we have looked 
for this lad in every possible place, and the 
police told us to try among the street boys, 
after we failed at every turn ; so we counted 
upon a boy knowing so many of this class as 
yourself, to give us some aid.” 

Chub did not look up. He feared to gaze 
into the calm, kind face with its frame of 


Ill 


The Street Singer 

white hair, fancying that if he did so, his 
secret would be in danger ; for with such as 
he, a gentle voice and a kindly face are of 
greater force than threats or blows. 

However,’^ went on Mrs. Crawford, not 
notidng the boy’s manner, we thank you 
ever so much, and we want you to drive with 
us at our place just outside Ashland, if you 
can. We have many questions to ask you. 
You know many things that would be of 
value to us in our search for the missing 
boy.” 

**You could get the early train in the 
morning,” Mr. Crawford said, joining his 
wife. I always go to the city early myself.” 

Chub looked up quickly at the words of 
the old gentleman. 

“Do you mean,” said he, “that you want 
me to stay at your house all night? ” 

“ Of course,” answered the old lawyer, 
kindly. “ We will give you a room and 
make you comfortable, and be obliged to you 
in the bargain, my boy.” 


112 


The Street Singer 

Chub, like a flash, recalled the few words 
that he had overheard beside the booth be- 
tween young Courtney and his friend that 
afternoon. Mr. Crawford had a paper that 
the elder Courtney desired, and by instinct 
he coupled that desire with darkness, a silent 
house and prowling men in the shadows. 

Thank you, sir,’’ said Chub, quietly, to 
Mr. Crawford. I’ll be glad to come.” 



CHAPTER IX 


WHAT CHUB SAW FKOM A WINDOW 

The home of Mr. Dawson Crawford on 
the outskirts of Ashland was a pretty, old- 
fashioned place with great trees and beautiful 
gardens surrounding it. It was about sunset 
when the carriage reached there, and Chub 
followed the old lawyer and his wife into the 
house. 

The dinner that followed was a wonderful 
thing to Chub. He had never eaten such 
delicate food or seen such a service, or such 
snowy table linen ; though, indeed, it was all 
ordinary enough ; for the Crawfords were 
simple, unpretending people. 

The evening was spent in the library. 
Chub answered a great many questions, 
about the streets and the life of the boys in 
them ; but while, in the main, he answered 

frankly, he was most careful to reveal nothing 
113 


114 The Street Singer 

of the secret which he held tight-locked in his 
heart. 

At last bedtime came, and the boy was 
shown to a room on the second floor at the 
rear of the house — a spotless, comfortable 
room that caused him, when the servant had 
gone, to stand in the centre of the floor and 
stare in astonishment. 

Look what it is to have money,^^ said he 
at last, fetching a long, blissful breath and 
drinking in the comforts that surrounded 
him. If I had a room like this all to my- 
self I'd feel like a prince." 

He grinned at his reflection in the long 
mirror that stood at one side of the apart- 
ment. 

“ I don't know what a prince feels like," 
resumed he, bowing with great politeness to 
his second self, but it must be an all right 
feeling. And one of them fellers wouldn't look 
like old Chub Foster, there," stabbing a Anger 
at the reflection accusingly, because Chub's 
got an old coat, and worn-out shoes and a 


The Street Singer 115 

patch on the knee of his pants. These 
prince fellers wears silk clothes like they do 
in the circus parade.’^ 

He carefully examined everything in the 
room and enjoyed every detail of it. 

It^s almost a shame to walk on the carpet/^ 
mused he. Them flowers look as real as 
the ones I saw in the garden awhile ago. 
And the bed,” pausing at the side of it with 
uplifted hands, “ is great. I^m afraid to sleep 
in it ; it might be only to look at.” 

A long white garment, folded neatly and 
hanging across a chair-back at the bedside 
attracted his attention ; he unfolded it and 
held it up. 

A nightshirt,” cried he, and for me to 
wear.” He sat down and stared at it with all 
his eyes. I never wore one in me life ; I 
wonder how they feel. It^s a dinky looking 
thing and it^s as soft as snow.” 

There were some books upon a shelf, and 
Chub came to them at last and began to take 
them down and examine them one by one. 


ii6 The Street Singer 

They were volumes dealing with incidents in 
American history, and were profusely illus- 
trated with spirited battle scenes. Chub was 
enchanted with these, and pored over them 
unheeding or forgetful of the passage of time. 
At length he replaced the last of them on the 
shelf and turned out the light. 

There was a big moon hanging in the sky, 
flooding the earth with silver and pouring in 
at the window of the boy^s little room. Chub 
went to the window and stood there, quietly 
looking out upon the gardens and clumps of 
trees. For a long time he stood there, the 
charm of the unaccustomed thing heavy 
upon him, dreaming rare dreams, and think- 
ing strange thoughts. Suddenly he became 
aware of a movement among the trees along 
the carriage drive at the bottom of the garden. 
He emerged from the haze of thoughts with a 
start and looked intently in the direction of 
the movement. Deep in the shadows cast by 
the tall trees, he saw what looked like two hu- 
man forms stealing toward the rear of the house. 


117 


The Street Singer 

** Oh, it can^t be,^’ muttered Chub, rubbing 
his eyes, ** who^d be out at this time of the 
night in the country.’^ 

Then the thought of the Courtneys crossed 
his mind, and he once more stared, now 
breathlessly, toward the trees. But there was 
no further indication of human presence, 
nothing disturbed the peace of the scene, 
save the slight swaying of the upper branches 
and a low rustling. 

** It might have been the breeze moving 
them tall bushes, murmured the boy. And 
I guess it was ; the things that I heard that 
feller Courtney say to-day make me kind of 
worried and I imagine things, I guess.’^ 

But no ; this would not satisfy him. A 
little farther along the drive was a clear spot 
where the tree-shadows did not fall. If it 
were any one making for the rear of the house 
he must cross this. He riveted his eyes upon 
the little clearing and in a few moments his 
suspicions were confirmed. 

A man darted swiftly across the moonlit 


ii8 The Street Singer 

patch of drive and into the shadows beyond, 
to be followed a moment later by another. 

“ Hello,’’ said Chub, drawing in his breath 
sharply and shrinking back from the win- 
dow, “ this looks like business.” 

He at once came to the conclusion that the 
two prowlers meant to force their way into 
the house. 

Yes ; and I know who they are, and 
what they want,” muttered the boy ; and 
they ain’t going to win out, either, if I know 
it.” 

Chub had noticed, as the servant had led 
him to his room, a window in the hall that 
must overlook the rear garden. Softly 
opening his room door, he crept out and 
down the hall toward the window through 
which streamed a perfect flood of silvery 
moonlight. Directly beneath the window 
was a porch roof ; and a glance showed him, 
standing in the shadow of some bushes near 
a well, the flgures of the two men. Chub’s 
eyes were young and keen. It only required 


119 


The Street Singer 

a second look to convince him that they were 
playing no tricks upon him. His presenti- 
ment, if such it could be called, was correct ; 
the two were young Courtney and his friend 
Dave. 

The prowlers stole softly out of the shadows 
of the bushes and toward the porch ; Chub 
could no longer see them, but he could, by 
listening intently, hear their talk as they con- 
sulted together below. 

It^s all right, Dave,^^ he heard Courtney 
say, in a hushed voice ; all youVe got to do 
is to climb the porch and crawl through the 
hall window/’ 

And what then ? ” 

At the further end of the hall is old 
Crawford’s library. He keeps no safe in the 
house, so go through his desk, and you’ll be 
sure to get what we are after.” 

Suppose the hall window is fastened ? ” 
Why, then, force it open, of course.” 

Well, here goes,” said Dave, after a pause. 

Chub shrank back from the window, as he 


120 


The Street Singer 

heard muffled footsteps on the porch floor, 
followed by a creaking and straining of the 
woodwork that told him that some one was 
climbing upward. 

Chub as a rule was a cool-headed boy, but 
when he saw the intruder crawling along the 
porch roof toward the window, he found him- 
self in a situation that was both novel and 
nerve-trying. He could not hope to cope with 
Dave ; the latter was a powerful youth and 
had the lowering look of one who would not 
hesitate to use his strength upon one weaker 
than himself. Of course, it would have been 
easy enough to have made an outcry and 
frighten the housebreaker away ; but Chub 
did not desire to do that ; he wanted to take 
him, or have him taken in the act. 

At this moment a cloud hid the face of the 
moon and the hall was shrouded in darkness ; 
Chub dropped to the floor and crawled along 
toward the far end. He had only a confused 
idea of the house at best, and now, laboring 
under such excitement, his confusion was only 


121 


The Street Singer 

enhanced. He knew that to reach Mr. Craw- 
ford’s apartment, he must go through a large 
room at the front of the house and enter an- 
other hall ; he was seeking blindly in the 
darkness for the door of this room, when he 
heard the window at which he had been stand- 
ing carefully raised. 

** He’s in,” whispered Chub to himself. 
** Oh, if I could only wake Mr. Crawford with- 
out this feller hearing me.” 

He now heard soft, slow footfalls coming 
down the hall, and his heart began to pound 
against his ribs violently. Then his groping 
hands came in contact with a door-handle, 
and with a catch of the breath that was almost 
a sob he opened the door and stepped into the 
room upon which the door opened. 

He felt that, to accomplish anything, he 
must work quickly ; so, dark though it was, 
he stepped swiftly toward the place where the 
door leading to the other hall should be. His 
outreaching hands came into contact with a 
shelf of books instead ; he stretched them to 


122 


The Street Singer 

the right and to the left, up and down, but 
encountered nothing but books anywhere. 
Then the truth flashed upon him. 

He had walked into the library by mistake 
— and the library was the room in which 
Dave had just been told that the coveted 
document was kept. 

“ I'm in for it now," said Chub to himself. 
“ Here he comes down the hall not a half-a- 
dozen feet from the door and I've got to stay 
and meet him." 

There was a huge chair, leather covered and 
high of back, which stood in a corner. Chub 
had noticed it while talking to the old law- 
yer and his wife during the evening. He 
groped his way toward the spot where he had 
seen it and had barely crouched down out of 
sight behind it when there came the sudden 
snapping crack of a match at the door and 
Dave stepped coolly into the library and lit 
the gas. 

He acts as if he’d done things like this 
before," muttered Chub. “ I've heard of 


The Street Singer 123 

burglars, but I never had a chance to see one 
working at his trade till now/^ 

Dave looked carefully all about the room. 

“ Nothing but the desk to search, just as he 
said,^^ muttered the young man in a tone of 
evident relief. “ He must know all about the 
house. 

The housebreaker stooped over the hand- 
some oaken desk at one side of the room and 
slid open the top drawer. 

“ Not even locked,” said he, exultantly. 

It^s the easiest thing I ever tried.” 

He knelt at the desk and began to carefully 
search the drawer ; his back toward Chub. 
The latter rose to his feet and, with his head 
just topping the huge back of the leather-cov- 
ered chair, proceeded to observe the man^s 
doings. A half hour passed ; drawer after 
drawer was ransacked, but still the paper 
desired was not found. 

Everything but what I want,” muttered 
Dave, angrily. Maybe it’s not in the desk, 
after all.” 


124 


The Street Singer 

He lifted his head from its bent position 
and stretched his arms. There was a mirror 
above the desk, and by chance the young man 
glanced into it. There, over the back of a 
chair, a pair of black eyes calmly looked into 
his own and watched his every movement. 
Almost at the same instant Chub noted that 
he was discovered ; his first impulse was to 
dodge down out of sight, but he realized that 
it would be useless ; so, as Dave turned an 
alarmed countenance toward him, the boy 
coolly walked out from behind the chair and 
seated himself upon one of its wide arms, his 
feet swinging and a grin upon his round face. 

Hello,^^ he greeted Dave, did you find it 
yet?^^ 

For a moment the young man was too aston- 
ished to answer ; then he started forward with 
a scowl upon his brow and with muttering 
lips. Chub had seen his like before, but 
never under such circumstances ; he knew 
that the man was dangerous, and he would 
not have voluntarily faced him ; but now 


125 


The Street Singer 

that there was no visible means of escape his 
street-born instinct was to carry the matter off 
boldly. 

** Hold on,” warned he, never stirring, 
don't come too near to me. There'll be 
something happen if you do.” 

The sudden discovery that he was watched 
had shaken the man's nerves ; so he now 
paused and glared at Chub, waveringly. 

What's to keep me from pounding you, 
you young sneak? ” he growled. 

** Oh, a good many things,” returned Chub. 
“ You put a hand on me, and you^l get all 
that's coming to you, all right.” 

You ain't alone, then?” asked Dave, his 
glance darting toward the open door. 

** Sure not. I just stepped in to watch how 
you managed it. The others are in another 
room.” 

There ain't nobody here but the old man 
and his wife,” said Dave, with sudden resolu- 
tion. You can't scare me.” 

All right,” said Chub, still swinging his 


126 


The Street Singer 

legs, the grin never leaving his face, '' don't 
believe me, then." 

How did you come to be here ? " 

A guest of the family," answered Chub, 
with a lofty air that was comical to see. A 
guest of the family, that’s how.” 

“ I think you come here to spy on me, and 
make me trouble," ground out Dave. “ You 
followed me, didn’t you ? " 

“ Wrong," said Chub, calmly, “ I didn’t. 
What would I follow you for ? This is the 
first time that I ever knew that you followed 
this line of work." 

‘^Well," said Dave, after a pause, during 
which he eyed the lad, scowlingly, what 
are you going to do ? " 

Oh, just sit around and take notice." 

'' You’re going to give an alarm, too, I sup- 
pose." 

Well, I might do that, after awhile,” ad- 
mitted Chub. 

Look here ! " Dave advanced upon the 
boy mill he was within arm’s length of him. 


127 


The Street Singer 

** I want to just give you a word of warning. 
Don't you do it ; take my advice, and don't 
you do it." 

** Why not?" inquired Chub. He stared 
into the other's face boldly enough, but for 
all that he was not without misgivings as to 
how the incident would end. 

“ Because it won't be healthy for you, that's 
all. I'm here on a little matter of business, 
and I'm going to finish it before I go ; if you 
make a sound or try to leave this room, why, 
what will happen to you will be your own 
fault." 

There ain't going to be anything happen 
to me," said Chub, not the slightest alarm 
sounding in his voice, though he expected to 
be seized the following moment. “ But 
there's going to be plenty happen to you, all 
right." 

“ Oh, you haven't got Courtney to deal with 
now," snarled Dave. “ You can't rattle me 
with your sharp answers, like you did him. 
There is nobody here but the old man and 


128 


The Street Singer 

old lady, and if you make any outcry, why, 
you’ll take what I deal out to you. Do you 
hear ? ” 

His heavy grip closed on Chub’s arm as he 
spoke these words, and he scowled blackly 
down at the lad as though he strongly desired 
to put his threat into execution on the spot. 

“ Oh, yes, I hear you,” answered Chub, as 
coolly as before. 

Well, you’d better heed me, too. Now, 
come over here where I can keep my eye on 
you.” 

He roughly dragged Chub to the further 
side of the room, where he would be under 
his observation while the desk was being 
rifled. Chub made no resistance ; he knew 
that it would be reckless to do so ; the man 
was desperate and there was no knowing what 
he would do if driven to it. 

Now,” resumed Dave, I’m going on with 
this little job, but I’ll see every wink you 
make, even ; so don’t play any games on me. 
After I And what I’m looking for I’m going 


129 


The Street Singer 

to take you a mile or so down the road so 
that you can't round on me, here, when my 
back is turned.” 

With this the speaker once more proceeded 
with his task at the desk ; every now and then 
his eyes would be raised to Chub, who stood, 
watching and silent, and each time he raised 
them he scowled warningly. As the fruitless 
search of the desk went on, it slowly began to 
dawn upon both Chub and the housebreaker 
that it was possible that the sought for papers 
were not there. 

“ You ought to look inside of all the 
books,” mocked Chub. Maybe Mr. Crawford 
hides his things that way.” 

You shut up I ” commanded Dave, shortly. 

He arose from his kneeling position before 
the desk and stood for a moment apparently 
considering. There was a low bookcase al- 
most at his side, and he leaned his elbow upon 
it, carelessly. As he did so he knocked against 
a small japanned deed-box which lay upon 
the top of the case, and it fell to the floor with 


130 


The Street Singer 

a rattle. The sound seemed startlingly loud, 
breaking, as i^did, upon the quiet of the 
house ; the man held up a warning hand to 
Chub for silence, and then crept to the door 
and listened. 

But there was no indication that any one 
had been aroused ; for a long time Dave bent 
forward at the library door, his ears strained, 
his face set. Then, at last, he drew a long 
breath and turned once more toward his 
former position. 

Now when the deed-box fell, the lid flew 
open and a number of neatly folded docu- 
ments were scattered upon the floor. As he 
caught sight of these, Dave pounced upon 
them and his Angers and eyes ran through 
them rapidly. Then he uttered a smothered 
exclamation of satisfaction. 

Oh 1 Here she is, at last. I began to 
think rd never And it.^^ 

He unfolded the paper to its full length and 
read it greedily. Chub, watching him, saw the 
expression of satisfaction upon his face deepen. 


The Street Singer 131 

“ He’s got it,” was the mental observation 
of the street boy ; he’s got it, and it’s all up 
with poor Harry.” 

Dave happened to look toward Chub at that 
moment and caught the expression upon his 
face. 

Oh, yes, I’ve got it, all right,” said he, 
triumphantly, as though he knew the boy’s 
very thoughts. I’ve got it safe, and I mean 
to hold it until I get my pay for it.” 

He drew a leather wallet from his pocket 
and unstrapping it, placed the paper within. 
For the moment his eyes were taken from 
Chub ; and in that moment the street boy 
acted. With a quick bound he reached Dave’s 
side ; like a flash he snatched the wallet and 
darted with it through the library door. 

Dave uttered an exclamation of rage and 
sprang after him. Chub flew across the hall, 
which was once more flooded with moon- 
light, and into a large room at one side. An 
open door was before him, and, like a flying 
mouse, he vanished through it, with Dave 


132 


The Street Singer 

after him. He now found himself in a long 
hallway ; at the further end of which was 
still another door, and he ran toward it. It 
never occurred to him to cry out. Help sel- 
dom comes to a boy of the streets, and he 
soon learns to depend upon himself alone. So 
it was with Chub ; he closed his lips tightly 
and fled along the hall toward the door at the 
far end. 

In a moment he had reached it ; a single 
wrench at the handle told him that it was 
fastened. Like a mad thing he battered upon 
the barrier as though to beat it down ; he 
heard the panting laugh of Dave almost be- 
hind him, and felt that his effort was to go for 
nothing. But just as the man’s hand was 
about to clutch him he noted that the tran- 
som above the door was open ; and drawing 
back his arm he hurled the wallet through 
the opening and into the room beyond. 

A cry came from Dave at this. Chub 
turned, like a tiger cub, to give battle, now 
that the paper was safe. But a quick move- 


The Street Singer 133 

ment behind him caused him to dart a look 
over his shoulder ; the door now stood open, 
and within arm’s length of him stood old Mr. 
Crawford, an expression of astonishment upon 
his face, and the wallet in his hand. 

“ What in the world is the meaning of 
this ! ” cried the old gentleman. 

“ This man,” gasped Chub ; “ he tried to 
rob you.” 

‘‘ What man ? ” demanded Mr. Crawford, his 
amazement seeming to increase. ‘‘ I see no 
man.” 

Chub turned toward the spot where Dave 
had stood but a moment before. Mr. Craw- 
ford was right — there was no one in sight. 
The housebreaker had vanished. 


CHAPTER X 


CHUB FOSTER GOES BACK TO THE OLD LIFE 

However, after the first shock, of astonish- 
ment, it only required a few moments for 
Chub to relate what had happened. Mr. 
Crawford hurriedly opened the wallet and 
his face grew pale as his eyes rested upon the 
paper. 

I understand now,^’ said he. 

“ How did that fellow get away, I won- 
der? asked Chub, greatly mystified at 
Dave^s sudden disappearance. 

That is easily explained,^^ said Mr. Craw- 
ford. Here is a window, behind these cur- 
tains; see, it is open ; when the man saw me 
open the door he must have darted behind 
the curtains, climbed through the window 
and dropped to the ground.” 

Chub went to the window, which up to 
134 


The Street Singer 135 

this moment he had failed to notice, and 
looked out. 

“ It’s a pretty nice drop,” commented he. 

By this time Mrs. Crawford had made her 
appearance, in a state of great alarm. 

They all went to the library, and Chub ex- 
plained everything. 

I’ll not be able to sleep again to-night,” 
cried Mrs. Crawford. ** Oh, it’s dreadful, to 
think that people are not safe in their own 
houses. Dawson, you must telephone to the 
police at once and have Horace Courtney, his 
son and this man whom they call Dave, ar- 
rested.” 

My dear,” said Mr. Crawford quietly, 

you must not forget.” 

He still held the paper, which had been the 
object of Dave’s search, in his hand ; and he 
tapped it gently as he spoke. Mrs. Crawford’s 
face became filled with anxiety in a moment. 

Yes, yes,” she said hurriedly, I have 
forgotten. We can do nothing.” 

After this they had Chub narrate just how 


136 The Street Singer 

he came to discover the prowlers outside, and 
listened intently as he related his experience, 
step by step. 

You are a brave, good boy,^^ said the old 
lady ; “ you are just what I said you were 
from the first time I saw you.’^ 

Thank you, ma^am,*^ said Chub, grate- 
fully. Not many people take any stock in a 
kid like me ; and it makes me feel good to hear 
you say it.*^ 

By the time the excitement had subsided 
in the Crawford household, dawn had broken 
in the east, and it was not a great while after, 
that Chub sat down to a good breakfast. 
About eight o^clock he stood upon the steps 
shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, 
and saying good-bye. 

** If ever you want friends,’^ Mr. Crawford 
said, ^MonT hesitate to call upon us. We 
have made up our minds as to your worth, 
and want to do something for you.’^ 

Thank you, sir,'' said Chub grate- 
fully. 


137 


The Street Singer 

** And if ever you come across a boy who is 
called Harrison Mandeville Carlyle, you^ll let 
us know at once, won't you?" spoke Mrs. 
Crawford. 

I don't think I'll be likely to, ma'am," 
said Chub. But I might bring him 
around some time ; you can't tell about these 
things." 

So he bade them good-bye once more, and 
cheerfully promised to visit them again ; then 
he walked rapidly toward the little railroad 
station and caught a train bound for the 
city. 

It was about noon when he reached his 
destination and hurried toward Rainbow 
Alley. 

“ Harry did not expect me to stay away all 
night," said he to himself, “ and he might be 
getting worried about me." 

He turned into the alley whistling shrilly ; 
but as he reached the Daily house the tune 
died suddenly upon his lips, and his eyes 
grew wide and staring. Upon the door was 


138 The Street Singer 

posted a big black-lettered placard which 
read : 

FOE KENT 

APPLY NEXT DOOR 


“ For Rent ! Chub gazed blankly at the 
sign, scarcely understanding what it meant. 
Then he tried the door and found it locked ; 
he knocked and there came the hollow sound 
peculiar to vacant houses ; he peeped through 
the keyhole and saw that the living-room 
was stripped bare of all furniture. 

They Ve gone away,’^ Chub whispered to 
himself ; they Ve gone away.” 

Somehow the fact struck deeply ; he had 
come to look upon this place as home — the 
first that he had ever known. He had re- 
turned with a high heart thinking to gladden 
Mrs. Daily by throwing the full amount of 
her overdue rent down before her; and to 
find her and all the rest gone, and the house 



J 


“THEY’VE GONE AWAY,” HE WHISPERED 




139 


The Street Singer 

closed and vacant, chilled him to the heart. 
He knocked upon the door of the house 
adjoining. A thin, sharp-featured woman 
opened it, and he pulled off his cap. 

“ Good-morning, Mrs. Carter,’^ saluted he. 

Morning,” snapped the woman. “ What 
do you want? I can^t stand here all day 
waiting on snips of boys.” 

I only wanted to ask where Mrs. Daily 
had gone ? ” 

Oh, I don't care where she went. What 
do you come to me for ? ” 

“ Didn't she leave any word at all ? ” asked 
poor Chub, forlornly. 

“Is that all you want?” demanded the 
woman. 

“Yes'm.” 

“ Well, don't come bothering around my 
door any more ; I won't have it.” 

The woman slapped the door shut in his 
face ; and he turned away almost bewildered. 

“ I must find 'em,” said he to himself. 
“They've got Harry with 'em and I can't 


140 The Street Singer 

have that. I promised to take care of him 
and I must do it — I must do it.^^ 

He bent his steps toward the little grocery, 
the proprietor of which had told him of the 
Ashland fair. 

''Hello,” greeted the little German, mop- 
ping his shining bald head. " How you was, 
yet ? ” 

" I ain^t feeling very well,” answered Chub. 

" You ain^t sick, already ? ” asked the gro- 
cer, with quick sympathy. 

" No ; but I^m worried.” 

" Och ! You have troubles. Dot is a pity. 
I have plenty of dem mineself, und dey are 
no goot.” 

" I just got back from Ashland,” said Chub. 

" Ah, from Ashland. What for you vos in 
Ashland, eh ? ” 

" I went to the fair. You told me about it, 
don^t you remember ? ” 

"So I did. Dot^s so, so I did. Veil, did 
you see der races yet ? ” 

" Yes ; and I was in one of them.” 


The Street Singer 141 

** You I ” The grocer opened his eyes very 
wide ; then he laughed loudly. Und you 
got beat,” he cried, slapping the boy on the 
back ; you got beat ; und dot is why you 
feel so bad.” 

‘‘No,” said Chub, “I won. Look here.” 
He drew out the prize money. “ Here’s the 
money that I won — twenty-five dollars.” 

The little German grocer stared, more wide- 
eyed and astonished than ever. 

“ You von der race ! ” exclaimed he. “ You 
have twenty-five dollars — und you feel bad, 
yet. Young man,” and he shook his finger 
at Chub, “ if you vos ever get to be a rich 
feller you vill die, vonce, ain’t it? ” 

“ I guess so, Mr. Schmidt,” said Chub ; “ but 
it ain’t the money that makes me feel bad.” 

“Veil, vot den ? ” 

“ When I got to Mrs. Daily’s I found her 
and the family gone, the house locked up and 
a ‘ For Rent ’ sign on the door.” 

“ Is dot so ? My cracious, dot is a funny 
thing I Vere has she gone, eh ? ” 


142 


The Street Singer 

don’t know. I came around to see if 
you knew anything about it.” 

Id is der first I haf heard of it. But maybe 
mine frau vill know someding about it, yes.” 

The grocer went to a door leading to the 
dwelling part of his house and called : 

“ Wilhelmina, come by der store, vonce.” 

A stout, rosy-faced woman answered the 
summons. She spoke better English than her 
husband, and exclaimed, upon hearing what 
Chub had to say : 

Oh, yes, Mrs. Daily. She moved last 
night.” 

Where to?” asked Chub eagerly. 

“I don’t know. I only know that she 
owed a lot of rent and was much afraid of be- 
ing turned out upon the street. So when her 
brother from the west came last night, she 
sold all her things to the second-hand furni- 
ture dealer, and the whole family went away 
together.” 

“ And the boy,” demanded Chub anx- 
iously. Was the boy with them ? ” 


The Street Singer 143 

“ Oh, yes ; I saw him. They went away in 
the carriage that Mrs. Daily's brother came 
in — a fine looking carriage with big black 
horses. I saw it all as I stood at the win- 
dow." 

“ But don't you know where they went?" 

** No ; I don't. It must be to some grand 
place, for I think the brother must be rich. 
She hadn't seen him for years." 

After a great deal more questioning Chub 
left the grocery. He had learned something, 
to be sure ; but until he had seen Harry, 
he would not be at rest. He visited the 
second-hand dealer who had purchased Mrs. 
Daily's furniture. 

No," said the man, I don't know 
where she removed to. I never ask people 
questions about what they are going to do, you 
see ; that kind of thing hurts business." 

One by one Chub paid a visit to every 
place in the neighborhood where he thought 
it likely that any information of Mrs. Daily's 
whereabouts could be had ; but no one knew 


>44 


The Street Singer 

more than he himself. Chub, during his 
residence in the alley, had become acquainted 
with the big policeman on the beat ; so meet- 
ing him upon a corner, he questioned him 
also. 

No,^^ said the officer, drumming with his 
fingers upon his club, I don^t know where 
Mrs. Daily moved to. She was in a carriage 
with the kids and a big-hatted, western-look- 
ing man with a beard. I heard somebody 
say he was her brother, who had lots of 
money. 

All day Chub continued his search ; but in 
vain. No one, it seemed, could tell him any- 
thing ; and he crept into bed at a lodging 
house that night, discouraged and filled with 
a nameless fear. Next day the quest was re- 
newed, but with the same result ; Mrs. Daily 
and all the others had vanished as utterly as 
though the ground had opened and swallowed 
them. 

But Chub did not give up ; day after day 
he continued the hunt ; week after week he 


The Street Singer 145 

puzzled over it all and strove to clear it up ; 
but each night, each week^s end found him 
no nearer the truth than before. Gradually 
he drifted back to the life of the wharves and 
the river front streets ; bit by bit he became 
more like what he had been, before the only 
softening influence of his life came upon him. 
But amid it all he never forgot Harry. Wet, 
hungry, dispirited, kicked, cuffed, and bullied 
as he was, the wistful eyes and trusting look 
of the younger boy were ever before him — 
ever beckoning, so it seemed, for Chub to 
come and protect him once more. 

“ And Vll And him some day,^^ vowed Chub, 
ril And him and do what I promised to do.^^ 


CHAPTER XI 


THE CELLAK OF SHABRACK 

In the weeks that followed the disappear- 
ance of Harry and the Daily family, Chub did 
little or no singing on the street. The twenty- 
five dollars which he had won at the fair 
served to keep him in food and lodgings for a 
long time, and the boy devoted the days and 
nights to wandering through the city in an 
aimless search for his missing charge. 

But at last the time came when the only 
remaining dollar was spent, and Chub was 
brought face to face with the great problem 
of the street boy — hunger. 

I’ll have to get down to business,” said he 
to himself one morning as he sat upon a wharf 
log and watched the shipping on the river. 
He had slept in a freight shed the night be- 
fore, hidden from the watchman’s eyes by the 

bales of goods ; he had had no breakfast and 
146 


The Street Singer 147 

discouragement, for the first time, began to 
lay hold of him. 

‘^The trouble is,^^ he mused, that I ain't 
done this thing in the right way. I ought to 
have hunted for Harry in the day time and 
sung on the big streets at night. Then I 
wouldn't be so ragged looking as I am ; and 
I'd still have some money left." 

That morning he broke his fast with the 
bananas that dropped from the bunches as 
they were hoisted out of the hold of a steamer 
and loaded upon waiting drays. 

** It ain't a very swell breakfast," he told 
himself ; nothing like that one I had at Mr. 
Crawford’s that morning ; but it'll do for this 
time. We can't be too particular when we 
ain't rich." 

After satisfying his hunger he walked along 
the line of docks in deep thought. Overhead, 
the bowsprits of sailing vessels overhung the 
street ; the great steel bulks of steamships in 
the stream towered aloft like mighty islands, 
their many funnels and deck houses glittering 


148 


The Street Singer 

with paint and polished metal. All the build- 
ings in this section were old-fashioned and 
weather-stained ; for the most part low, frame 
structures with small-paned windows and 
frowsy fronts. Many of them were used as 
warehouses, and ship chandlers^ shops ; some 
were filled to bursting with all sorts of nautical 
things ; some very dirty ones were boarding- 
houses or cheap shops for the sailors and long- 
shoremen, while still others, again, exhibited 
ships’ instruments, maps, charts, and other 
maritime wares. 

It was such a shop as this that stood upon 
the corner of a small alley directly facing the 
river. As he caught sight of it. Chub paused. 

There is old Shadrack’s place,” said he to 
himself; I haven’t seen him for a long time. 
I think I’ll go over and look in.” 

There was a steep flight of stone steps de- 
scending to the basement or cellar beneath 
the ships’ instrument shop and it was toward 
these that Chub headed. 

** Looks just the same as ever,” he mut- 


149 


The Street Singer 

tered ; I don^t see how that old feller gets 
along at all, ^cept he's got a lot of money hid 
away somewhere like they say he has." 

A battered tin sign swung to the wind 
above the basement door ; years had dimmed 
the lettering, peeled off most of the paint, and 
coated the tin with rust. But for all that 
some slight trace of the inscription could be 
seen by any one who took the trouble to look 
close. It read : 


SHADEACK 

DEALER IN CURIOSITIES 


The stone steps were heaped with all sorts 
of broken and utterly useless articles, old 
books, cases of dried butterflies, faded prints, 
and bundles of tattered pamphlets. There 
was an iron hand-rail to offset the steepness 
of the steps, and strings of queer-looking roots 
and dried herbs dangled about a visitor's ears 
as he descended. 


1^0 The Street Singer 

Chub made his way to the bottom and stood 
peering into the cellar through the open door- 
way. The interior was dim and damp ; the 
only daylight came from the door, as there 
were no windows, and a little oil lamp threw 
a pale, yellow light about. 

Ah, my dear,” sounded a croaking voice 
from the semi-darkness, how do you do? ” 
First rate,” answered Chub, stepping in. 
** How^s yourself, Mr. Shadrack ? ” 

I am still a poor old man,” said the voice, 
in a whining sort of way, a poor old man, 
my dear, without any friends in the world.” 

Oh, I guess you've got lots of friends, 
Shadrack,” chuckled Chub. “ They say you 
have, anyhow.” 

There came a sudden stirring in a far 
corner and a figure rose up, as it were, out of 
the darkness. It was that of a thin man 
with a great, yellow, wrinkled face, and an 
immense hump between his shoulders that 
seemed to bend him down, by its weight and 
bulk, almost to the fioor. He came into the 


The Street Singer 151 

flicker of the lamplight, one hand held out 
quiveringly, as though in protest ; he had a 
thin beard, and wore thick eye-glasses, which 
his dim eyes peered through in a near- 
sighted, blinking fashion. 

Lots of friends, my dear,’* said he, in a 
trembling voice. How could a poor old 
man like me have friends ? ” 

I’ve heard people say that money was a 
good friend,” answered Chub ; ‘‘ and a good 
many around here say you have plenty of 
that.” 

Plenty of monish I ” The words were al- 
most shrieked, as the hunchback crouched 
under the lamp, his long-nailed Angers drum- 
ming upon the bare table and his head rock- 
ing to and fro. Shadrack, the poor man, 
with plenty of monish I Father Jacob, the 
boy is mad ! I am poor, I am very poor ; I 
have not enough, at times, to buy a crust to 
stay my hunger.” 

He presented a weird flgure as he bent over 
the table, staring across it at the boy. The 


1^2 The Street Singer 

cellar was filled with the same sort of rubbish 
that lined the steps ; stuffed animals and 
birds glared at one with glassy eyes from 
gloom-filled corners ; mounted serpents coiled 
about branches fastened into blocks of wood ; 
bats and flying foxes, together with spiders, 
depended from the ceiling ; in the circle of 
light, a great horned owl, mounted upon a 
perch in a most lifelike manner, stared with 
round eyes into the darkness as though brood- 
ing over the mysteries he saw there. 

If you don^t make any mone}^ here, Shad- 
rack, said Chub, why do you stay ? 

Ah, my dear, I am old — old. And I am 
a cripple, without strength. What could I do 
to earn a living ! What could I do I No, no ; 
I must sit here in my cellar and wait for the 
customers to come and buy. But they don^t 
come very often, my dear, not very often ; and 
when they do come they will not pay half 
what the things are worth. 

Chub glanced around ; the wonder to him 
was that they paid anything at all. He could 


^53 


The Street Singer 

not understand what people could want 
with the clutter of stuff that filled the 
place. 

** Only yesterday/' went on Shadrack, 
quaveringly, a man came in, and asked the 
price of a piece of armor — a piece of ancient 
armor, my dear, which I paid a great sum for. 
He offered me one-tenth of what I asked, and 
laughed when I cried out that he was robbing 
me. Oh, the Egyptian ! Oh, the spoiler of 
the chosen I He laughed." 

“ Did you sell the thing to him ? " smiled 
Chub. 

** What else could I do ? I am a poor old 
man. I needed the monish — the poor little 
bit of monish that he offered, my dear. I 
must have my crust ; even the poor and the 
crippled and the old must eat." 

Chub sat down upon a chair at the table. 
As he did so, he was startled by a huge black 
cat with round, golden eyes, which suddenly 
emerged from the shadows and bounded upon 
the table before him. Shadrack noticed the 


154 The Street Singer 

boy’s start, and laughed in a cackling, quaver- 
ing way. 

It is only Danton,” spoke he, stroking the 
great beast which fawned upon him, purring 
and pleased. ‘‘Don’t you remember him? 
Don’t you recall the fine, big, sleek Danton, 
with the fur like silk and the talons like the 
tiger’s ! He is only a beast, but I love him ; 
for he is the only thing in the world that 
loves me.” 

Chub stared curiously at the strange pair ; 
there was real feeling in the hunchback’s 
voice, and the strong, handsome brute did, 
indeed, seem to love him. 

“ Oh, yes,” said the boy, “ I remember him, 
all right enough ; but he scared me a little, 
coming so sudden, you know.” 

“ That is only his way,” smiled Shadrack, 
“ only his pretty, playful way. He is a great 
fellow, is Danton, my dear, a great fellow. I 
found him when a kitten ; brought him here 
and fed him on warm milk. Oh, yes, he is a 
beautiful, strong handsome fellow, is Danton ; 


The Street Singer 155 

a cat of cats ; and he loves old Shadrack, too ; 
he loves him very much.’^ 

He stroked the animal, which continued to 
purr and fawn upon him, its big, round golden 
eyes now opening to their fullest extent, and 
now closing to the merest slits. 

** Don^t it cost a good bit to feed him ? in- 
quired Chub. 

** Cost ! The hunchback ceased stroking 
the cat and stared at Chub through the thick 
lenses that covered his eyes. “ Cost, did you 
say ? 

Yes ; you have to pay for the meat and 
things that he eats, don't you ? " 

The hunchback stared for a moment in 
silence ; he made no movement of any kind ; 
but the changing expression of his face inter- 
ested the boy greatly. 

“ I must pay for the things he eats," said 
Shadrack at last. Yes," slowly, '' that is 
true ; so I must. But then this is Danton — 
my fine, strong, beautiful Danton, and he is 
my friend. I am a poor man, my dear ; I 


156 The Street Singer 

have no monish ; but Dan ton must be fed ; 
see how strong he is, and how sleek and fine 
of coat. Yes, yes ; Danton must be fed.'' 

As he watched the old man fondle the ani- 
mal, Chub realized that though the love of 
money might, perhaps, tempt the old miser 
that many claimed Shadrack was, to go 
hungry, still Danton would always be well 
fed and cared for. The creature possessed all 
that physical perfection which the master 
lacked, and was, apparently, cherished ac- 
cordingly. 

For a long time the old hunchback talked 
on about his pet. He sat crouched upon a 
stool at the table, the flickering light beating 
upon his great yellow face, seamed with a 
thousand wrinkles, and his long-nailed hands 
constantly rubbing each other, as though he 
were washing them in invisible water. As he 
went on, the cat sprang from the table to his 
shoulders, and coiled itself upon the huge 
hump, from whence it regarded Chub, drowsily 
blinking its golden eyes in the lamplight. 


157 


The Street Singer 

I have not seen you in a long time/’ said 
Shadrack after awhile. “ Where have you 
been ? ” 

“ Oh, about the city,” said Chub. 

Earning money with your singing, I sup- 
pose, my dear. Oh, it is a very beautiful 
voice you have — very sweet and clear. You 
should get much monish by means of it.” 

** I haven’t got much lately,” confessed 
Chub. “ I never had the time to sing.” 

Not had the time. Oh, Solomon, the 
Wise, listen to this ! He had not time to 
make monish ! Oh, the youth of the 
time ! ” 

The hunchback rocked to and fro in his 
chair as though overwhelmed by the short- 
comings of Chub ; then suddenly a thought 
seemed to strike him and he bent forward 
and said anxiously : 

If you have not been singing, then you 
have not much monish.” 

“ I haven’t any,” replied Chub. 

“ And,” continued the old man, quaveringly. 


158 The Street Singer 

“ you come to me to borrow, eh ? Is that it ? 
You come to ask me to help you, eh ? 

^^No,'' returned Chub, proudly, don't 
borrow." 

Shadrack stretched one of his hands out 
and patted the boy upon the back as though 
overjoyed. 

^^That is right," he cackled rapturously. 
** Never borrow, never borrow. It is not 
right to ask a man to lend that which he has 
worked hard for. Not," he added hastily, 
that I have any monish myself, my dear. I 
am a poor man — the poorest of the poor, a son 
of Jacob who lives upon a crust. But stories 
are told of me. It is said that I have much 
monish hidden away. Where would I get it ? 
Answer me that. It is madness to say such a 
thing — madness I " 

I just happened to be passing by," said 
Chub, and I thought I'd stop in. I've asked 
you about things many a time and you've al- 
ways told me what to do." 

Oh I " Shadrack waved his hands and 


»59 


The Street Singer 

smiled. It is advice you want. Very good ; 
I will try to give it to you. Though a very 
poor man in goods, still I have learning and 
much wisdom. I have read many books of 
times gone by, and have studied the hearts of 
men, also. You may ask what you please ; I 
will answer as best I can, my dear.’^ 

‘‘ You remember,^^ began Chub, leaning for- 
ward and speaking in a low voice, the 
boy?^^ 

The boy ? The hunchback gazed at 
Chub questioningly. 

** The boy that I had with me the last time 
I was in here to see you.” 

Oh I Yes, yes, I remember now. A small 
boy, with a gentle face, my dear, and big 
eyes. Yes, yes ; I remember now.” 

“ He’s lost,” said Chub. 

‘‘Lost!” 

Chub nodded his head. 

“I’ve hunted the city for him from one 
end to the other ; and I’ve never even seen his 
shadow.” 


i6o The Street Singer 

Have you been to the police, my dear ? ” 

Police ! ” Chub stared at his questioner as 
though he had taken leave of his senses to 
even dream of such a thing. “ I don^t want 
to have the police know about this.^^ 

“ Ah, indeed. Shadrack peered through 
his heavy lenses at the boy, searching his 
face intently. He was not afraid of the 
police, I hope.^^ 

Not in the way you mean,^^ answered 
Chub. He was a good kid.’^ 

“ I am glad of that,^^ said the hunchback. 

I am glad of that, my dear, for he seemed a 
nice little boy, indeed. But have you no 
idea of where he went ? ” 

“ No,’^ answered Chub. We went to 
lodge at a house up town last winter. It was 
a kind woman that kept the house, and I 
know she was all right. But when I went 
away one day, some time ago, she moved, and 
IVe not seen anything of her or her family or 
Harry since.” 

Could none of the neighbors tell you ? ” 


The Street Singer i6i 

‘‘ I asked ^em all ; but they didn’t know 
anything.” 

It’s very strange,” mused Shadrack, strok- 
ing his thin beard, very strange indeed. 
Tell me now,” and as his dim eyes peered 
into Chub’s face, the boy noted a look of 
shrewdness in them, tell me truly, was there 
not something about this boy, which you tried 
always to keep from every one ? ” 

Chub hesitated for a moment, and then he 
answered slowly, 

** Well, yes, there was.” 

Shadrack nodded his head sagely. 

I thought as much,” he said. “ I fancied 
that there was something of the kind when I 
first saw you together.” 

You did I ” exclaimed Chub. 

Yes, my dear, I did.” 

The hunchback bent further across the table 
and laid his hand upon the boy’s arm. Danton 
opened his great golden eyes to their fullest 
extent at this movement and stared unwink- 
ingly into Chub’s face. 


i 62 The Street Singer 

Tell me” said Shadrack, softly. “ Tell 
me all about it.^^ 

I can’t/^ said Chub. 

“You can't. Ha ! that is strange, my dear ; 
you ask advice and yet you will not tell me 
the facts. Don't you think I am your friend ? " 

“I think you are," said Chub, cordially. 
“ But I can't tell you." 

“You can't trust me, you mean," chided 
Shadrack. 

“ No," Chub said, shaking his head, “ it 
ain't that. But I promised not to tell." 

“ You promised ! " Shadrack seemed sur- 
prised. “ Whom did you promise — the boy ? " 

Chub shook his head once more. 

“ No ; not the boy. I can't tell you who. 
That is part of the promise." 

Shadrack did not speak for a long time. 
He crouched by the table, his thin, long- 
nailed hands tightly clasped and the great 
black cat squatting upon his hump. The 
pale yellow light of the oil lamp, only faintly 
augmented by the slender beam of daylight 


The Street Singer 163 

that came through the doorway, lit up in an 
uncertain, shadowy fashion the birds, beasts 
and reptiles with which the place seemed 
filled ; they stared steadfastly out of the dark- 
ness with their hard, glassy eyes and seemed 
to be listening intently for the next words of 
the two at the table. 

Is there nothing that you can tell me? 
asked Shadrack, at last. I want to advise 
you what to do ; but first I must have some- 
thing upon which I can base my judgment, 
my dear. Think ; is there not just a little 
which you can tell? 

** 1 can tell you some things that have hap- 
pened since I made the promise, I guess, 
answered Chub ; “ but first you must promise 
me, Mr. Shadrack, that youll never say any- 
thing about it to nobody.^^ 

“ I promise,” agreed Shadrack, eagerly. 
** Now tell me all you can.” 

Thereupon Chub related everything that 
had happened since the stormy night upon 
which he had sung in front of the Terminal 


164 The Street Singer 

Station ; also of the various strange comings 
of the mysterious man with the cards. The 
latter seemed to interest the hunchback greatly. 

You were afraid of this man, you say?” 
spoke the deformed one, when all had been 
related. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And so was the other boy ? ” 

Yes.” 

Shadrack shook his head. 

You had no reason to be afraid,” said he. 

I think the man was your friend.” 

Our friend ! ” ejaculated Chub. “ What, 
and scaring us like that ! ” 

It was not his intention to frighten you ; 
at least I don’t think so. The fact that he 
came to your aid that night when the street 
ruffians tried to rob your little friend, my 
dear, proves that he meant well by you. If 
it had not been for him you would have lost 
all your monish. Yes, yes, all your monish 
would have been gone.” 

“ Well, that sounds right,” said Chub. 


The Street Singer 165 

But it was a funny way to show that he was 
friends with us. You can’t do worse than 
poke around after people and act kind of silent 
like. It makes ’em feel creepy.” 

But Shadrack seemed to be paying no atten- 
tion to Chub’s views upon this point; his 
head was sunk in his hands and he appeared 
to be in deep thought. At last, however, he 
roused himself. 

This Mrs. Daily’s brother, now — what 
kind of a man was he, my dear? ” 

“ I don’t know. I didn’t see him.” 

Didn’t see him ! Ah, that is bad — bad.” 
Shadrack wagged his big head gloomily and 
blinked his peering eyes. “ What, then, was 
his name? ” 

“I don’t know that, either.” 

“ Dear, dear ! ” moaned Shadrack, what 
carelessness. Oh, the youth of the time I It 
is sinful to be so.” 

I never heard she had a brother,” said 
Chub, “ until the grocer’s wife told me that he 
had come and taken ’em all away.” 


i66 


The Street Singer 

^'Yes, yes; I understand. I understand. 
Ete was one who had been gone for years ; 
and he came back with monish, my dear, 
with much monish. It was in gold, perhaps, 
in bright, shining gold.^^ 

Shadrack rubbed his hands together in de- 
light ; a vision of much wealth danced before 
his eyes and his imagination was fired. Chub 
caught some of this as he looked at the hunch- 
back. 

‘‘Maybe,’’ spoke he, “it was in dia- 
monds. He might have come from the 
place where they dig ’em out of the 
ground.” 

“ Out of the ground ! ” Shadrack raised 
both hands above his head as he uttered the 
exclamation, and half sprang up. “ Diamonds 
in the ground I Diamonds ! ” 

The great black cat, disturbed, arched its 
back and snarled spitefully ; its golden eyes 
were green now, and it looked wicked in the 
dim light of the oil lamp. 

“ Of course,” said Chub, taken a little aback. 


The Street Singer 167 

** They do dig diamonds out of the ground, 
don't they ? " 

With an effort Shadrack recovered himself 
and sank back into his chair ; he spoke sooth- 
ingly to Danton, quieting the beast ; but 
Chub noticed that his voice trembled a little 
as he said : 

Oh, yes ; to be sure, my dear. Diamonds 
are taken from the earth ; how absurd of me 
to forget so small a fact." 

He closed his eyes and sat with clasped 
hands and muttering lips; the great cat 
crouched upon its master's deformed shoul- 
ders and watched Chub distrustfully through 
narrow slits of eyes. 

Diamonds in the earth," muttered Shad- 
rack. Oh, blessed place ! Such must, in- 
deed, have been the land selected for the sons 
of Abraham, and it has gold hidden away, 
also, perhaps; glittering, beautiful gold, and 
very much of it — very much of it, my dear." 

He bathed in the flood of his thoughts for 
a long time ; then he roused himself. 


i68 


The Street Singer 

But let us try to forget all this/' moaned 
he ; “ it is not ours and only creates vain de- 
sires. Let us put these dreams from us. I 
am a poor man, my dear ; I am a cripple and 
live upon a crust ; so what would I with 
thoughts of monish and the belongings of a 
rich man." 

He leaned across the table once more and 
resumed in a changed voice : 

“You have tried to find this Mrs. 
Daily, and failed, have you not, my 
dear?" 

“ Yes." 

“ You have seen nothing of her or of her 
pretty little daughter, or of the poor cripple, 
her son ? " 

“ Not a thing." 

“ The reason," said Shadrack, “ that you 
have not found them is because you have not 
sought for them in the right way." 

“ How should I look for them, then ? " 

“ First and best — you should tell the 
police." 


The Street Singer 169 

‘‘ No, no,” cried Chub ; ‘‘ I can’t do that, I 
tell you.” 

The second is to ” but the hunchback 

hesitated, leaving the sentence incomplete. 
After a moment’s thought he resumed, ab- 
ruptly : 

“I will think of a way. Go now, and 
make some monish by your singing on the 
street. Sing ballads with sweet, high notes ; 
pretty ladies love such, and will pay well to 
hear them. Come to me to-night, and I will 
tell you how to find your little friend.” 

Chub was not surprised at this. He had 
known Shadrack a long time and was more 
or less accustomed to his ways. So he arose 
at once. 

All right,” said he, ** I’ll be in to see you 
again, to-night.” 


CHAPTER XII 


CHUB TKIES AN EXPERIMENT 

Chub Foster brushed his shabby clothes 
and polished his shoes at the stand of a 
friendly colored bootblack. 

<< I^m going over to where the big stores 
are/^ he informed this accommodating person. 
“ I^m going to sing and see if I can^t get some 
money.’^ 

Yo’ don’ need to be widout money, no 
how,” said the colored boy. Say, Chub, if 
I don’ gone had a voice like dat dar one yo’ 
got in yo’ frote, I’d stack de coin away in 
barrels, ’deed I would.” 

I guess not so much as that,” laughed 
Chub, as he applied some dressing to a rubbed 
spot in one of his shoes and burnished it 
briskly with a big brush. 

I listen to yo’ singin’, one time,” contin- 
ued the boy, and I just ’dare to goodness if 
170 


The Street Singer 171 

it wasn^t gran’ ! I see ladies dar — white 
ladies what ride in carriages and know what 
singing and voices am ; and dey jest hold dey 
moufs open while yo’ sort oh let de music 
trickle ; and dey hah tears in dey eyes as big 
as a nickel. Dat’s a fac’.” 

** If everybody thought I was as chesty a 
singer as you do,” chuckled Chub, I’d be 
pretty good, all right.” 

I ain’t got no ejacation,” complained the 
colored boy, and I don’ know much about 
fings ; but I got music down mighty fine, boy ; 
I can pick a tune off ob de guitar like sixty, 
and make de piano talk. And when a pus- 
son knows as much as dat ’bout music dey 
knows somefing about singing, too. Yo’ is 
got what dey calls a souprano voice, and 
lemme tell yo’ it’s a mighty gorgeous one, too.” 

A half hour later Chub found himself in 
the shopping district ; it was too early in the 
season for the great crowds, but for all that 
the section was uncomfortably thronged with 
ladies upon shopping bent, and business peo- 


172 


The Street Singer 

pie hurrying along upon their various ways. 
Chub selected a conspicuous place upon a 
corner and cast a careful eye about for un- 
friendly policemen. The coast seemed clear, 
however, and he placed his hands behind him 
and without further ado, began. 

There was a rumble of heavy drays and 
cabs upon the roughly paved street, and the 
confused noises of a great highway all about 
him ; but in spite of all this the clear, pure, 
beautiful voice rang out with thrilling sweet- 
ness and went soaring and ringing upward. 
It takes very little to gather a crowd upon a 
busy street ; and in a moment a dense throng 
was surrounding the lad, listening and won- 
dering while the melody ebbed and flowed 
like the waters of which he sang. 

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, 

As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; 
Oh, the last rays of feeling and life must depart 
Ere the bloom from that valley shall fade from my 
heart. 

Thicker and denser, still, grew the crowd 


173 


The Street Singer 

as the melody rippled and whirled as sweetly 
as ever did the waters in Avoca’s bright vale. 
But before the boy had finished there came 
rough stirring ; his quick eye caught the 
metal top of a policeman's helmet as the of- 
ficer pushed his way toward him ; the song 
ceased instantly and the boy darted into the 
crowd and was lost in a moment. He slipped 
in at the swinging doors of a big department 
store, and as he turned to see if the policeman 
had witnessed his movements, he felt a hand 
laid upon his shoulder and a deep voice say : 

Here he is now ; look. Miss Standish, 
he's not a day above fourteen." 

Chub looked up, startled, and found a very 
tall and very powerfully built man with a 
thick brown beard, standing and looking 
down at him. A young lady was beside him 
and she was regarding Chub smilingly. 

You ain't going to give me to the cop," 
cried Chub, pleadingly. 

The big man laughed. 

Indeed no," said he. “ Why should I ? " 


174 


The Street Singer 

Why did you break off your singing so sud- 
denly ? asked the young lady, still smiling. 

“ I had to. The police won’t let me sing near 
the stores in the day time, for it makes a crowd. 
I just saw one coming and I ducked in here.” 

“ What a pity.” The young lady had kind 
brown eyes and her voice was low and gentle. 
Chub looked at her intently ; somehow he 
seemed to have met her before, but just where 
he could not remember. 

“ And, I suppose,” she continued, you 
had no time to gather any money.” 

No,” said Chub ruefully, “ I hadn’t. You 
see the cops around here have run me away 
more than once, and they might take me in 
if they caught me.” 

“ You must give the boy something, doc- 
tor,” said she, turning to the big man. I’m 
sure he needs it ; and then it is worth a great 
deal to hear such a beautiful voice.” 

The doctor gave Chub some loose silver and 
the lad grinned cheerfully. 

Thank you,” said he. I couldn’t have 


175 


The Street Singer 

got that much out of the crowd ; women 
don't give more than a cent at a time mostly, 
and they were nearly all women.” 

What's your name ? ” asked the doctor. 
Chub Foster ; I'm fourteen.” 

“ That's what I thought,” smiled the doc- 
tor. Then he turned to Miss Standish. 
** Why couldn't we have him on the tenth ; 
he'd create a sensation.” 

Miss Standish seemed delighted. 

‘‘ Oh, if he'd only come ! ” she exclaimed. 
It would be something new and delightful.” 
On the 10th of October,” said the doctor 
to Chub, I'd like you to come to this ad- 
dress at nine in the evening — will you ? ” 
Chub took the card which the other handed 
him. It read : 

EALPH MOEGAN WAEDE 
Studio : Eoom 612 

Butlar Building 


176 


The Street Singer 

No,” said the doctor, seeing Chub’s ques- 
tioning glance. That is not my name ; but I 
want you to come there on the tenth at nine 
in the evening, and ask for Dr. Fairman.” 

Studios,” remarked Chub, is places 
where they paint pictures. Do you want to 
have my picture made, mister ? ” 

No,” said Miss Standish, we want you 
to sing.” 

‘‘ You’ll be paid for it,” the doctor hastened 
to say, seeing a doubtful look upon the boy’s 
face. 

Oh, I wasn’t thinking about that,” said 
Chub, with his good-humored grin. I was 
just wondering about me dress suit and if it’d 
be in style this season or not.” 

Come as you are,” quickly put in Miss 
Standish. We don’t want you to be a bit 
different ; it would spoil everything if you 
were.” 

Decidedly,” agreed the big doctor. 

All right,” said Chub. ‘‘ October 10th at 
nine o’clock. I’ll be there.” 


177 


The Street Singer 

** Thank you” smiled Miss Standish. 

Chub raised his cap politely and watched 
them as they made their way along the 
crowded aisles of the store. 

** Nice kind of people,” said he, at last. I 
wonder where IVe seen that lady before, for 
it seems to kind of strike me that I did see 
her somewhere. Well, never mind now ; 
when I go to this place,” putting the card in 
his pocket, I’ll ask her about it.” 

Chub sang a half dozen times during that 
afternoon and nightfall found him with quite 
a neat sum. 

“ This is better than the other way,” he 
thought, as he drew a stool up to the counter 
at a lunch room and ordered enough for two. 
** The money is coming in some ; before it was 
all going out.” 

After he had satisfied his hunger he made 
his way back to the river front and descended 
the steps of Shadrack’s cellar. The hunch- 
back had lighted another lamp, and sat por- 
ing over an old book in a strange tongue. 


178 The Street Singer 

which he held very close to his eyes. Dan- 
ton, the huge black cat, sat upon the table at 
his shoulder, also with his eyes fixed upon 
the book. From his attitude one would have 
thought that he, too, understood this strange 
printed language and was drinking in the 
ancient wisdom of the east with his master. 

Oh ! cried Shadrack, closing his book 
and peering through his thick glasses, “ you 
have come, have you, my dear?^^ 

** Yes,’^ said Chub, seating himself at the 
opposite side of the table, “ IVe come, Mr. 
Shadrack. 

I was thinking about you,” remarked the 
old man, thinking about you and reading 
one of my old friends, as you see.” 

He tapped the book lovingly and then 
put it away upon a shelf. Returning to the 
table he began stroking the cat and nodding 
his head. 

“ And Danton,” continued he, “ was also 
thinking about you. I could see it in his 
eyes and in his manner. Oh, he is a wise 


179 


The Street Singer 

beast ; he sat and listened to all that you 
told me this morning, and then thought it 
all over carefully. If he could but talk, 
now, my dear, you’d get some very wonderful 
advice from him. He could tell you what 
to do. Oh, yes, yes ; he could tell you what 
to do.” 

Well,” asked Chub, placing his elbows 
upon the table and his fists under his chin, 
have you thought about what I said, and 
can you tell me what to do? ” 

I have considered the question, my dear, 
and I found it a very difficult one, indeed. 
But I think I have hit upon a way by which 
you can discover this woman who went off 
with your little friend.” 

How ? ” cried Chub, eagerly. 

Have patience,” said Shadrack, have 
patience, my dear, and I will tell you. To- 
night you will go to this place which I have 
written here, and you will sing, as you stand 
in the street. You will not go directly up to 
a house and begin singing ; but you will start 


i8o The Street Singer 

at the corner, we will say, and proceed slowly 
along, as, 1 suppose, you usually do/^ 

“ All right,” said Chub ; 111 do anything 

you say. And will I find them there, Mr. 
Shadrack, do you think ? ” 

^'You will find Mrs. Daily, I feel sure; 
and you will learn from her the reason 
for all these things which have puzzled 
you.” 

Chub looked at the scrap of paper, the mar- 
gin of a news-sheet, and he found scrawled 
upon it the words : 

Holland Square, West.” 

1 know where this place is,” said he, 
but you don’t say which house, Shadrack. 
There is a lot of ’em in a row.” 

I told you to go to the corner and sing 
and gradually work your way along the 
square, keeping your eyes and ears open, 
my dear. That is the way.” 

How do you know that I’ll find Mrs. 
Daily there ? ” 

Never mind that. Old men like me know 


The Street Singer i8i 

many things, my dear, many things. Just do 
as I say and all will be well.” 

“ ril start right away,” announced Chub, 
promptly getting upon his feet. “Holland 
Square is a good way across town ; but I’ll 
spend a nickel and get there on the cars.” 

“ Good-night, my dear,” croaked Shadrack, 
as the boy stood in the doorway ready to de- 
part. Then he added, hurriedly holding up 
one of his thin, talon-like hands, “ Wait, 
wait ! ” 

He came toward Chub slowly, his great, 
yellow, wrinkled face wearing an eager look. 

“You sang on the street to-day, did you 
not?” 

“ Yes ; a little.” 

“ Ah ! And you made the monish, eh, my 
dear.” 

“ I made a couple of dollars.” 

“ A couple of dollars I ” The hunchback 
threw aloft his marveling hands and rolled 
his eyes in wonderment. “ Here is wealth ! 
Here is riches. A couple of dollars. Wis- 


i 82 


The Street Singer 

dom of Solomon, who ever heard the like I 
And he is only a child.’^ 

He turned and went back to his chair. 

That is all, my dear. Go your way to 
Holland Square, and learn what you are to 
learn.”, 

“ Good-night,” said Chub ; and he ran ea- 
gerly up the stone steps and made for a street 
upon which he could get a cross-town car. 

Holland Square was in a most select quarter 
of the city ; the square was one of the city^s 
loveliest breathing spots ; facing it upon all 
sides were beautiful and imposing residences. 

“If I’m going to find Mrs. Daily here,” 
murmured Chub, as he alighted from the car 
at a corner of the square and looked about 
him, “ it’ll be one on me. She must have got 
a job as a cook lady, for it’s awful toney around 
this way.” 

He sought the west end of the square ; there 
were few people on the street, and most of 
these were nurse girls, giving their little 
charges an evening airing, for the weather 


The Street Singer 183 

continued warm. Nevertheless, he began to 
sing, and as the music flowed from his throat, 
his quick eyes traveled up and down the street. 
The song he chose was one which both Mrs. 
Daily and Nan had demanded of him re- 
peatedly while he and Harry occupied their 
attic room — ^‘The Minstrel Boy.” Their 
warm Irish hearts throbbed joyously in tune 
with the beautiful melodies of Moore ; and the 
boy felt confldent that this their favorite 
would reach their ears if any could. In the 
quiet of the street his voice rang out with 
startling distinctness* 

The minstrel boy to the war is gone, 

In the ranks of death you^ll find him, 

His father^ s sword he has girded on 
And his wild harp slung behind him.^^ 

There was a turning and craning of necks 
on the parts of the loungers in the square ; the 
nurses and children paused to listen ; here 
and there Chub could see the surprised face 
of a lady behind the rich curtains at a window. 
But he went on with never a pause : 


184 


The Street Singer 

^ Land of song ! ^ says the warrior bard, 

‘ Though all the world betrays thee, 

One sword, at least, its right shall guard. 

One faithful harp shall praise thee.^ 

As the last words died away he heard the 
sharp closing of a heavy door a short distance 
away ; he, for a moment, dreaded to look in 
that direction, and his heart throbbed heavily. 
He was about to begin another stanza, and 
was summoning his courage to turn, when a 
surprised, breathless voice fell upon his ear. 

“ Chub ! Chub Foster I 
He wheeled like a flash ; before him, pret- 
tily dressed and with flushed face and excited 
eyes, stood Nan Daily. 

“ Nan I ” cried he. Nan ! 

“ Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” said Nan, as 
she strove to control herself. “ Where in the 
world have you been ? ” 

Oh, around town,” answered Chub. But 
where have you been ? ” 

“ We live here on this street now. We have 
ever since we left Rainbow Alley.” 


185 


The Street Singer 

** On this swell street ! ” 

“ Yes. Oh, we are rich now ; or, at least, 
my Uncle Jim is ; and it's just lovely.” 

Chub expected to hear her say something 
of Harry ; but she did not, and somehow a 
great weight seemed to press upon his chest 
and come into his throat. When he spoke 
again his voice seemed husky and strange 
even in his own ears. 

Where is he ? ” 

Who ? ” Nan seemed surprised. “ You 
don't mean my Uncle Jim?'' 

No ; I mean Harry.'' 

** Harry I '' 

Nan looked at him wonderingly ; and then, 
at last she seemed to grasp his meaning. 

** Chub,'' she cried, you never mean to say 
that you don't know where Harry is.'' 

Ain't he here — with your mother ? '' 
Chub asked the question hopelessly, expect- 
ing nothing more than the answer which he 
received. 

** No,” returned Nan ; ** he's not.” 


1 86 The Street Singer 

“ Then he’s lost,” cried Chub in despair. 

He^s lost ; or maybe worse than that ; he 
might have been kidnapped/* 

Kidnapped I ’* 

Yes ; kidnapped. I was afraid of it all 
along.** 

Was there any one, Chub, that would want 
to steal him away for anything ? ** 

“ There was,** answered Chub. “ There was 
plenty of them. I watched him all the time 
just as I promised I would. But it was no 
use, I guess ; they came and got him when I 
wasn*t around.** 

Nan’s eyes filled with tears, both at Chub’s 
evident sorrow, and the strange fate of the 
little fellow whose wistful, pleading eyes had 
always appealed to her kind heart. 

Come into the house,” she said at last ; 

let us talk to mother and Uncle Jim about it.” 

Does your mother know I*m here ? ” 
asked Chub. 

Does she, indeed I ** Nan laughed a little 
at the question. Well, she just does. It 


The Street Singer 187 

was she who heard you first and she tore into 
the room where Uncle Jim and Phil and I 
sat, almost frightening us. 

^ He^s outside,’ she cries. 

* Who is ? ’ asks Uncle Jim. 

‘ He is,’ says mother. ^ Oh, some one go 
out and call him in.’ 

“Just then,” continued Nan, “ I heard you 
singing * The Minstrel Boy,’ and I knew right 
away what she meant. So I ran out just as 
you see me.” 

Chub followed Nan up the broad steps of a 
fine house and into the hall. 

“ Mother will be so glad to see you,” said 
the girl ; “ and so will Phil. They were for- 
ever talking about you and poor Harry.” 

She led the way into a large, handsome 
room ; the first person that Chub’s eyes fell 
upon was Mrs. Daily — and a vastly different 
Mrs. Daily from the one whom he had known 
in Rainbow Alley. But, for all her evident 
rise in life, she was the same warm-hearted 
creature as before. 


i88 


The Street Singer 

Chub, allanna, and is it you, indeed ? she 
cried, springing up. 

It^s me, all right, Mrs. Daily,^^ answered 
he, shaking hands with her. Then he saw 
Phil, in a new roller chair, his eyes bright at 
the sight of his friend ; for Chub had come to 
be a great favorite with the little cripple 
during his stay in the Daily attic. ** Hello, 
kidsy,^^ continued the street boy, glad to see 
you looking so pert.*^ 

“ And I^m glad to see you. Chub, very glad, 
indeed. Oh, why didnT you come to see us 
before ? We missed you so much.^^ 

Faith and we did that, laddie,^^ put in the 
mother. ** Sure, Chub had come to be a part 
of the family, so he had ! And why did ye 
stay away so long. Chub, without coming 
next or near us ? ” she added. 

“ I didnT know where you lived,” said 
Chub. 

‘‘ Not know where I lived ! ” exclaimed 
Mrs. Daily, surprisedly. ** Why, then, did I 
not give full directions to Mrs. Higgins, next 


The Street Singer 189 

door? She promised to tell ye, as soon as 
ye came back from the country that time, 
that we had all come here to this fine 
place/^ 

“ I asked her the next day after you left,” 
said Chub, ** and she said she didn’t care 
where you had gone. And she kind of run 
me away from the door.” 

“ Oh, the spiteful creature,” cried Mrs. 
Daily indignantly. ** Who would have 
thought she’d do that ? Arrah, Chub, some 
people have black envy in ’em, me lad.” 

** Why didn’t you bring Harry with you ? ” 
asked Phil. We’d liked so much to have 
seen him, wouldn’t we, mother ? ” 

Indeed we would,” replied the good 
woman. ** He were a fine gentle little laddie, 
so he were ; and he looked so pitifully at me 
sometimes with the big eyes of him that the 
tears would come into me own.” 

Nan had gone out of the room as soon as 
Chub had become comfortably seated; she 
wanted her newly-rich Uncle Jim to see Chub 


igo The Street Singer 

and had gone to fetch him. So the street 
boy had to repeat what he had said to 
her. 

He's lost then ! " cried Mrs. Daily. “ The 
poor little felly is lost." 

“ Or stolen," added Chub, despairingly. 

** And all the time you thought he were 
with us. Och hone ! what will we do at all, 
at all? Where will we find him? Sure he 
went out for a walk on the evening that me 
brother came, promising not to go far away. 
When he did not come back, we thought he 
had met you, and so did not worry about 
him." 

But Mrs. Schmidt, the grocer’s wife, told 
me she saw a boy in the carriage with you," 
said Chub. 

Did she say it was Harry ? " asked Phil, 
after a silence. 

No," admitted Chub, thoughtfully, “ she 
didn’t." 

Then she must have meant me," said the 
lame boy. 


The Street Singer 191 

That^s so/* cried Chub ; I never thought 
of that.** 

At this moment Nan reentered the room, 
leading by the hand a middle-aged man with 
a full, good-humored face. 

This,** said Nan, smiling, “ is Chub ; 
Chub, this is my uncle, Mr. James Farral.** 

How do, youngster ? ** said Mr. Farral, 
holding out a big, rough hand in a hearty 
fashion, regarding the genuineness of which 
there could be no mistake. I*m glad to see 
you. Heard a good deal about you since I 
came to town. Nan and Phil, here,** and his 
face lit up as his eyes rested upon the sick 
boy, “think there isn*t quite anybody like 
you, anywhere.** 

“ I thank them,** said Chub, simply. 

I “ I*ve been in Colorado for twenty years,** 
! went on Mr. Farral, seating himself gingerly 
I upon a handsomely upholstered chair, “ dig- 
\ ging in the mines, you know. I struck it 
ii rich six months ago, and came east to see the 
I folks.** 


192 


The Street Singer 

He waved his hand toward his sister, who 
sat beaming upon him, and toward Nan and 
Phil. 

They are the only relations I’ve got, so I 
thought it was the right thing for me to do 
to make ’em comfortable. This place was to 
let, ready furnished ; and I took it like a shot. 
How do you like it ? ” 

“ It’s great,” answered Chub, admiringly. 

** That’s what I think. I’m not quite used 
to it yet. I’ve lived in a board shanty out in 
the mines; and the chairs and things here 
have a little too much spring in them.” 

Nan is the only one of us who takes to all 
the fine things naturally,” said Mrs. Daily, a 
trace of pride in her voice. ** Sure you’d 
think. Chub, from the way she goes about, 
that she’d been reared in a palace, so you 
would.” 

“ Oh, hush, mother,” laughed Nan, ‘‘ I 
don’t. But then, what is the use in letting a 
house frighten you. The furniture is just 
furniture and it can’t bite one.” 


193 


The Street Singer 

“ But the servants/' said Mrs. Daily, with 
awe; “faith, Nanny, I can't get used to 
them." 

“ Oh, you will in time,andsowillUncleJim." 

“ She's the boss," said the latter gentleman, 
admiringly, to Chub. “ She just naturally 
took hold and began to run things as soon 
as we settled in the house. Out at Cripple 
Creek I know my way about, and can take 
charge ; but Nan beats me, here ; so I let her 
have her way." 

“ Have you told mother about Harry ? " 
asked the girl. 

“ Yes," answered Chub. 

But he had to tell it once more for the 
benefit of Mr. Farral ; after he had finished 
the mine owner said : 

“ It looks queer to me, and that's a fact. 
And so you're not allowed to tell what these 
people want to steal the boy for ? — that is, ad- 
mitting he is stolen." 

“ No ; I can't tell. And he has been stolen. 
I'm sure of that." 


194 


The Street Singer 

'' I don’t like the idea of this man who kept 
following you two boys all around in that 
queer way. What do you think about 
him?’^ 

‘‘ I never liked it much, either, confessed 
Chub ; and Harry was afraid of him.’^ 

“ Do you think he had anything to do with 
Harry’s going away. Chub?” asked Nan. 

I did think so,” answered the boy, “ but 
Shadrack says not.” 

“ Shadrack I ” ejaculated Mrs. Daily ; “ and 
who is he, laddie ? ” 

“ He’s an old man, that lives in a cellar 
down near the river,” said Chub. “ He’s 
humpbacked and almost blind ; and he has 
the place full of all kinds of things what he 
sells.” 

What queer people children meet with,” 
remarked Mrs. Daily. 

You seem to put a good bit of confidence 
in this Shadrack,” said Mr. Farral. How 
is that ? ” 

“ Oh, he knows a lot of things,” answered 


The Street Singer 195 

Chub. It was him that told me how to 
find you.^^ 

“ Told you how to find us ! It was the 
lame boy that spoke, for the others were look- 
ing at Chub in questioning silence. Does 
he know us, Chub ? 

“ He never seen you, even, I guess,” an- 
swered the other lad. 

Then how did he come to know where we 
were ? ” asked Nan. 

I don't know. He said I ought to tell 
the cop about Harry, and how you all had 
gone away so sudden. But when I wouldn't, 
he just told me he'd find a way, and said for 
me to come back to-night. When I did he 
gave me this slip of paper ; he'd wrote * Hol- 
land Square, West,' on it and told me to sing 
outside and that I'd see you all, maybe.'' 

Mrs. Daily looked frightened. 

He's a wizard, maybe,'' she gasped. 

Look to the description of him. A hunch- 
back that lives in a cellar near the river, and 
is all but blind.'' 


196 The Street Singer 

“ Nothing of the sort/’ spoke the practical 
brother from Cripple Creek. We don’t have 
wizards nowadays. He’s some poor, half 
cranky old fellow, I suppose, that hides away 
from people’s sight because he doesn’t think he’s 
fit to be seen. I’ve seen lots like that. If he 
knew that you and the family had come here, 
why he found it out in some perfectly natural 
way, you can depend on that.” 

But Mrs. Daily shook her head, doubt- 
fully. 

You may be right, James,” she said to 
her brother, “ but I don’t know. I’m older 
than you and have seen things that I didn’t 
like, many’s the time.” 

“ You’ve got old country notions,” laughed 
Mr. Farral ; they’ve stuck to you like the 
brogue, Mary Ellen.” 

** Oh, I know you’ve got very American in 
your talk, James, since you went to the 
mines years ago ; but sure, you don’t know 
everything.” 

She then turned to Chub and went on : 


The Street Singer 197 

“ Is there anything very queer about this 
old man, laddie ? 

‘‘ Nothing much,’’ answered Chub, who was 
entirely free of all superstition ; ** only he 
thinks a good bit of his cat.” 

“ A cat ! Hah I ” Mrs. Daily shot a trium- 
phant glance at her brother. A cat I Do 
you hear that, James Farral? He have a 
cat.” 

So have we,” returned the miner, laugh- 
ing. 

But Mrs. Daily ignored this last, and gave 
her attention once more to Chub. 

And is the cat,” she inquired, of any 
color ? ” 

‘‘ It’s black,” returned Chub. 

Black ! ” 

Awful black. And it’s big, and got 
golden eyes. It knows a lot, too.” 

Mrs. Daily leaned back in her chair with 
the air of one entirely satisfied. 

“ There now ! ” she cried. Faith, I thought 
it from the first. The old felly is a wizard. 


198 The Street Singer 

Chub/^ impressively shaking her finger at 
the boy, never darken his door again.” 

Chub laughed. 

Oh, there ain’t much harm in Shadrack,” 
said he. He’s got a kind heart ; if it wasn’t 
that he likes money so much, he’d be all 
right. He’s done me many a good turn.” 

‘^Well, be careful of him,” warned the 
good woman, seeing that she could not en- 
tirely prevail. Don’t let him practice any 
of his tricks on you.” 

Chub spent a long time in talking with 
the family ; he found them all very happy 
and very content, save for one thing. That 
was Phil’s condition. 

He don’t seem to get any worse,” his 
mother said in a low tone ; “ but oh, it’s piti- 
ful, Chub, to think that he must sit there in 
his chair always and never play like other 
boys, and run about as I know he’d love 
to do.” 

We’ve had a dozen doctors,” said Mr. Far- 
ral, '' and every one of ’em says that Phil will 


199 


The Street Singer 

be always a cripple. It is a sort of disloca- 
tion of the hip, I believe ; and they all claim 
that he’s too old to be cured. It should have 
been tried when he was very young.” 

And at that time,” said Nan, “ we had no 
rich Uncle Jim, and could not pay for the 
great doctors.” 

Phil, very pale, very quiet, but very cheer- 
ful, heard none of this, of course ; and when 
Chub was about to leave, he bent over the lit- 
tle cripple’s chair. 

How do you feel, Phil ? ” he asked. 

Pretty well. Chub, thank you,” answered 
Phil, bravely. He dropped his voice to a 
whisper as he continued. “ Since Uncle Jim 
came and brought us here, and mother and 
Nan don’t have to work so hard, it doesn’t 
seem so hard for me to have to sit in this 
chair all the time and be able to do nothing. 
So, you see, that’s something.” 

'' Maybe,” encouraged Chub, you won’t 
have to sit here all the time ; you might get 
better, you know.” 


200 


The Street Singer 

That’s what they all say,” whispered Phil. 

But I know better, Chub ; I heard what 
some of the doctors said, though none of ’em 
thought I did. I’ll never get well. Chub; 
I’ll always be sick and lame.” 

** Don’t you believe the half of it,” declared 
Chub, sternly. Now, I know a kid that 
was worse than you. His name is Skinny 
Mason, and his littlest brother used to push 
him around the streets in a chair with wheels, 
like this, and they used to sell matches. He 
never could walk any since he was born. 
But a swell doctor came from Europe to fix 
up a rich man’s child that had the same thing 
the matter with it that Skinny had. And 
one day he saw Skinny on the street and they 
got him to go to the hospital.” 

“ And is he better ? ” asked the lame boy, 
eagerly. 

He’s still in the hospital,” answered Chub. 
“ I was to see him once, not long ago. He’s 
got a hard lot of plaster stuff around his leg ; 
but he can walk as well as anybody.” 


201 


The Street Singer 

^*And must he always wear the plaster 
thing, Chub? ” 

No ; as soon as his leg gets strong they’ll 
take it off ; and then Skinny’ll be all right.” 

** Oh, I wish I could be like him ! ” said Phil, 
wistfully. I’d give anything if I could walk. 
Chub.” 

Mrs. Daily and her brother and children 
endeavored to persuade Chub to remain with 
them over night ; but he refused. Somehow, 
it seemed that if he accepted their kindness he 
would be in a measure deserting Harry. As the 
huntsman or savage sleeps upon the trail, so 
was the street boy minded to do ; he felt that 
he would never have an easy moment until he 
had learned of his little friend’s whereabouts. 

“ But I’ll be sure to come and see you 
again,” said he, as they bid him good-night in 
the big hall, and if I hear anything about 
Harry I’ll let you know.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


CHUB FOSTER TRACES THE SHADOW 

Chub slept that night at a place near the 
river known as “ Dutch Peters/ ^ It was pat- 
ronized mostly by sailors, longshoremen, 
homeless boys and young men. Some of the 
patrons were evil looking, and the place was 
none too clean ; but the proprietor kept strict 
order within the four walls, so Chub had no 
need to fear, as past experience had shown 
him. 

Next morning he visited Shadrack, and 
found the hunchback feeding Danton at the 
back end of his cellar. 

Oh, good-morning, my dear,^^ welcomed 
the old man. 

Good-morning, Mr. Shadrack,^^ answered 
Chub, seating himself upon a heap of old 
books and watching the process of feeding 
with interest. Shadrack would hack a small 
202 


203 


The Street Singer 

particle from a boiled shin of beef and hold it 
toward his pet between the tips of his thumb 
and forefinger. The great cat would gingerly 
take it between his teeth, exercising the 
greatest care not to injure his master ; and 
every time this was accomplished, the hunch- 
back would cackle with appreciation and rub 
his hands together gleefully. 

Ah, he is a great beast,^’ he told Chub. 

A great beast. So intelligent and so hand- 
some ; he is, indeed, the king of cats. There 
is no other like Danton in the city. No, no ; 
not for miles around.^’ 

But in a little time Danton was fed and 
stalked away to a shadowy corner, where he 
leaped upon a shelf and proceeded to curl 
himself up and go to sleep. 

Shadrack put the shinbone and case knife 
away ; then he seated himself at the table and 
looking at Chub, asked : 

Well ? 

I found them,” answered the boy. 

At Holland Square, West ? ” 


204 


The Street Singer 


“ Yes.” 

Shadrack chuckled and rubbed his hands 
together delightedly ; had Danton shown a 
new and pleasing quality he could not have 
been more pleased. 

I thought so/^ cried he. I thought you 
would find them there, my dear.*^ 

** They are living in an awful rich kind of 
a house, said Chub, proudly. He was rather 
pleased at this fact ; it seemed, somehow, to 
refiect credit of some sort upon himself. 

“ And was the brother there ? asked the 
hunchback, eagerly. The one who returned 
with so much monish, I mean. Did you see 
him ? 

Yes ; I saw him. His name is Farral, 
and he has a mine at Cripple Creek. 

Cripple Creek ! Oh, yes, yes ; I have 
heard of that place. It is rich — very rich. 
Men have made millions there ; think of 
that, my dear, millions. Men have gone 
there as poor as I — I who live upon a crust — 
and have made fortunes within a month.^’ 


205 


The Street Singer 

'' Some people’s awful lucky,” said Chub. 

“ They are, my dear ; they are, indeed. 
And some others have no luck. I have never 
had any ; I am old and crippled, and have no 
monish — none at all, though the sons of 
Anak about me say I am rich.” He bent 
toward Chub eagerly as he continued anx- 
iously, You don’t think that I have mon- 
ish, do you, my dear ? ” 

‘‘ I never saw you with any,” answered 
Chub, truthfully. 

That is right,” groaned Shadrack, “ and 
it is true. I have none. I live upon a crust 
and sleep among my goods. Oh, the Egyp- 
i tians, oh, the children of the oppressor ; what 
falsehoods they tell ! ” 

Chub watched the old man for a little time 
without speaking ; then he inquired, bluntly : 

How did you know I’d find the Dailys at 
Holland Square ? ” 

Shadrack’s sour expression gradually faded 
away ; and a smile soon replaced it. 

“ That interests you, does it, my dear ? ” 


2o6 


The Street Singer 

“ Yes/' answered Chub, it does." 

“ How do you think I found it out ? " 

I don't know. But I can tell you what 
Mrs. Daily thinks." 

Oh ! And what does the excellent Mrs. 
Daily think, my dear ? " 

She thinks you're a witch," said Chub, 
with great candor. 

Shadrack threw up both hands and cackled 
shrilly ; a torrent of delighted words, in a 
strange, odd sounding tongue, poured from 
his lips ; and at last he lay back in his chair, 
gasping and all but helpless. 

I guess you see something funny in it," 
said Chub. But Mrs. Daily didn't." 

“ A witch ! " exclaimed the hunchback. 
** Oh, that is very good — it is quaint and un- 
usual. I thank the good woman for the idea ; 
it will amuse me much in the hours when 
I am alone." 

Tell me," insisted Chub, how you knew 
about it." 

It's very simple," said Shadrack, in a low 


The Street Singer 207 

tone, “ very simple, my dear. And some day, 
perhaps, I shall tell you how I knew.^^ 

Well, I guess it won^t make much differ- 
ence,’^ spoke Chub. 

And so they heard your beautiful voice, 
my dear? ” 

They heard me,” said Chub ; and Nan 
came out and took me in.” 

*‘And the little friend ?” asked Shadrack. 
** How was he ? ” 

^^He was not there; they have not seen 
him since the day they moved.” 

Shadrack did not seem at all surprised ; he 
i nodded his head at the reply as though it 
were just about what he expected. 

So I ” he exclaimed, his lean, long-nailed 
fingers pattering upon the edge of the table, 
[ sharply, and his near-sighted eyes peering 
[ through their heavy lenses. I thought so. 
If the boy had been with these people they 
would have sought for you. As it was, they 
very likely thought he was with you and so 
did not trouble themselves.” 


2o 8 The Street Singer 

*^That is just how it was,” said Chub. 

Shadrack nodded his head again. 

** And what do you think has become of the 
boy ? ” asked he. 

I think he was kidnapped,” answered 
Chub, promptly. 

Ah, but by whom ? ” 

By the man who has been following us 
around for so long.” 

The hunchback looked extremely doubtful. 

” No,” said he ; ** I think you are wrong. 
It seems to me that that man was a friend to 
the boy.” 

** Then why did he act the way he did ? ” 
demanded Chub. He wasnT any friend ; for 
friends don^t act like he did ; they come 
right out and tell you about it. That man 
had something up his sleeve ; I don^t know 
what it was ; he meant some kind of harm to 
Harry.” 

Well,” asked the hunchback ; what do 
you think of doing, my dear ? ” 

** I^m going to hunt for the man this time,” 


The Street Singer 209 

answered Chub; ''and I'm going to find 
him." 

" But," and Shadrack tapped him on the 
knee, " do not search as before. Do not be- 
come a vagabond ; sing, make the monish on 
the streets at night ; have a home ; hunt for 
the man in the daytime." 

Chub followed this advice. At night he 
sang in front of the hotels, railroad stations 
and cafSs ; the money came readily and he 
took a room in a respectable neighborhood. 
During the day he walked the streets and 
scanned the features of passers-by ; but to no 
purpose. At length a thought struck him, 
and he went from one to another of the street 
merchants, musicians and newsboys who fre- 
quented the same section as himself after 
dark, telling them that if they ever saw any 
one who appeared to be watching him to in- 
form him immediately. 

Late one night as he stood before a hotel 
door singing to a slender gathering of hack- 
men and other unpromising material for a 


210 


The Street Singer 

collection, he heard the wail of Marie Neri^s 
violin approaching. In a few moments he 
caught sight of her and she secretly beckoned 
him to come to her. Upon finishing his song 
he did so. 

“ What^s the matter, Marie?” he asked. 

** I see-a da man. He a-watch you.” 

“ The man I ” cried Chub, his eyes darting 
about. Where is he ? ” 

** DonT look ! ” warned the little Italian 
girl. ** Maybe he see you. I take-a da notice 
of him to-night. He hide in doorways across 
da street wherever you sing. And he look 
at you — oh, he look at you so, with his eyes.” 

** Where is he now ? ” asked Chub, quietly. 

She covertly pointed to a deep, wide door- 
way in a big office building across the street. 
The tall, dark form of a man could be seen in 
the shadow, his face turned toward them. 

IVs the same chap,” breathed Chub, ex- 
citedly.^ “ It^s the man I want, sure.” 

But he did not allow his excitement to 
show in his actions. For all an observer 


211 


The Street Singer 

would know, Marie and he were merely dis- 
cussing some topic of interest in their world 
and were totally unaware of the presence of 
any one about them. 

I'm much obliged, Marie," said Chub, as 
the little violinist prepared to move away. 

This is a big favor to me ; I'm gladder to 
see that man than I would be to have a 
million dollars." 

He sang once more, this time upon the 
street corner, all the while keeping his sharp 
eyes upon the deep, shadowy doorway and 
the figure of the man which it failed to con- 
ceal. At last the boy crossed the street, and, 
still singing, made his wa}^ toward the point 
of his observation. As he came almost oppo- 
site the doorway he suddenly darted forward ; 
but like a fiash the door opened, and was 
then clapped in his face. The man had dis- 
appeared. 

I'll get him I " breathed Chub, with set 
' teeth ; I'll get him, yet." 
j When he grasped the handle of the door he 

I 

1 


212 


The Street Singer 

had not the faintest hope that it would open ; 
but to his astonishment it was still unlocked 
and swung smoothly inward. He sprang 
into a lofty and dimly lit hall, the door 
clanging after him. No one was in sight; 
but from somewhere in the distance came the 
pitpat of running feet, as though up a flight 
of stairs. 

Chub darted along the hallway in the di- 
rection of this sound ; he turned a sharp cor- 
ner and abruptly came upon a colored youth 
who sat quietly reading an evening paper by 
the open door of an elevator cage. He looked 
up quickly at Chub^s sudden appearance. 

Hello, said he. 

Hello, returned Chub, a little startled. 

Who does yo^ want to see ? asked the 
elevator boy. 

I want to see a — a — well, never you mind 
who I want to see. Whereas the stairway ? 

** Look heah,’^ said the young negro, don’ 
yo’ try no foolishness, boy. I ain’ going to 
stand fo’ no pestering, no how.” 


213 


'J'he Street Singer 

“ Who’s going to pester? ” demanded Chub. 

I want the stairs, and it^s your job to tell 
me where they are” 

“ Oh, it am, am it? Huh ! ” 

The elevator boy looked indignant as he 
said this ; Chub tried to pass him, impatient 
of delay, but was pushed back. 

“ HoT on dar now,’^ commanded the black 
youth. Don^ yo^ get fresh ! I knows mah 
wo’k heah, and yo^ canT tell me nothing at 
all about it. This heah building is closed 
’cept to tenants aftah seven o^clock. And yo^ 
ain’t no tenant, is yo’ ? ” 

Chub had sold newspapers in his time, and 
knew the rules of some office buildings ; this 
particular one was unknown to him, but he 
realized at once that what the colored boy 
said was true. So he choked back his anx- 
iety, and grinned good-naturedly as he an- 
swered, 

“ No ; I ain’t a tenant. Smoke.” 

“ Look out dar.” The colored boy shook 
his head threateningly. Stop dat I Mah 


214 


The Street Singer 

name ain’t Smoke, boy, and I don’ want yo’ 
to call me it.” 

“ All right,” said Chub, I won’t. No 
harm done, as the feller said when he 
fell out of a balloon without hurting him- 
self” 

“ I don’ want to heah ’bout no fellahs,” 
said the other gruffly ; ** all I wants is fo’ 
yo’ to go ’bout yo’ business and lemme 
alone.” 

I’m about my business, now,” said Chub. 

I ran in here to find a man.” 

All the time he had stood parleying with the 
elevator boy Chub had been listening intently 
to the footsteps upon the invisible staircase ; 
they grew fainter and fainter, and at last 
ceased altogether. 

Who does yo’ want to see ? ” asked the 
negro youth. 

It’s a — a man,” hesitated Chub. 

The other regarded him scornfully. 

Ain’t de man got no name?” in- 
quired he. 


The Street Singer 215 

Oh, I guess so,^^ returned Chub, but he 
never told me what it was/^ 

“ How does yo^ s^pose yoll find anybody in 
a building like dis heah, if yo* don^ know dey 
name ? Dey is mo'n a thousand people in dis 
place/ ^ 

‘‘ Phew, it^s a pretty good big building, 
ain't it? " said Chub. 

He wanted time to think of some way of 
getting by this stubborn guardian, and talked 
almost at random. 

“ Yes, it's a putty good size," said the 
negro. 

** Got lots of tenants, eh ? " 

“ Plenty of 'em. De place is packed wid 
'em." 

** Makes you lots of work, eh ? " 

“ Not me, so much. I'se only on at night- 
time." 

“ Ain't many comes in at night, then ? " 

** Not so very many. If it wasn't for de 
artis' folks on de top fioor, dey'd sca'cely be 
any." 


216 


The Street Singer 

“ Oh, do you have artists here ? 

We sho' does, boy. Dey's a lot of 'em up 
dere ; and dey paints mighty fine pictures, 
too, lemme tell yo\” 

But they don't paint at night," protested 
Chub, who had learned something of painters, 
in different ways. 

Of co's not. But dey hab dey friends to 
come and see 'em, and play de piano, and 
sing, and act plays and a lot of things. Dey 
has a good time, fo' sho'." 

Chub's eyes, while the other spoke, were 
resting absently upon a pad calendar which 
hung upon the side of the cage ; staring him 
in the face was the huge, black-typed date, 
^^OcT. 10." 

Somehow or other the date troubled him. 
He looked at it with growing interest and 
wondered why. Then a thought occurred to 
him, and he placed his hand in his pocket 
and drew out a somewhat soiled and broken 
card. It was the one which the big man had 
given him a short time before in the depart- 


The Street Singer 217 

merit store where he had run from the police- 
man. Once more he read : 


EALPH MONTGOMEEY WAEDE 
Studio ; Eoom 612 

Butlar Building 


Across this, in his own heavy scrawl, was the 
date, October 10th. 

** Say,^^ said the young street singer to the 
elevator boy, ** what building is this ? 

This,^^ answered the other, is the Butlar 
Building.^* 

Great ! was Chub^s mental exclamation. 

You can^t beat me I Then he added aloud : 

IVe just remembered something. I want to 
see Mr. Ralph Montgomery Warde, Room 612.'^ 

ShoV^ cried the colored boy. Why 
didn^t yo^ say so long ago ? Dey^s habing a 
time up in his studio to-night — one of dem 
what I just now toT you about. Get in de 
Vator, 111 took yo' right up.^^ 


2i8 


The Street Singer 

Chub did so; and as they shot upward 
through the shaft, he asked : 

‘‘ Do you know Mr. Warde? 

Sho’ I does. He tips me wid a quarter 
many a time. Dat was him dat come in and 
went up de stairs just befo^ yo* spoke to me.*' 



CHAPTER XIV 


CHUB SCORES A SUCCESS, BUT IS PUZZLED 

Room 612 of the Butlar Building was upon 
the top floor, and at the end of a long cor- 
ridor. 

It^s de las^ do^ to yo^ lef said the ele- 
vator boy. “ Yo^ be sho^ to know it, fo^ yo^ 
friend, Mr. Warde, has his name painted on 
de glass. 

** My friend, Mr. Warde,'^ repeated Chub, to 
himself, as he made his way along in the di- 
rection indicated. “ He^s no friend of mine ; 
but when I get a chance at him. I’ll And out 
what else he is, all right.” 

There was a sound of many voices behind 
the closed door ; a piano was playing and a 
deep, rich contralto was singing a sad, thrill- 
ingly mournful song. Chub listened, almost 
holding his breath ; he had never heard the 

music before and the poem was strange to him, 
219 


220 


The Street Singer 

but he stood there at the door and waited and 
listened, until the voice died away as though 
in a sob ; then he knocked upon the door. 

A young man with long, light hair, and a 
big, black tie flowing over his frilled shirt- 
front, opened to the knock. He had mild 
blue eyes, and spoke with a strong German 
accent. 

Hello,” said he, “ vat you vant, boy ? ” 
Chub handed him the tattered scrap of card- 
board. 

I was told to come here,” answered he. 

“ Come in,” commanded the other. 

Chub entered the room ; it was thronged 
with men and women ; some were in evening 
dress, a few young men wore soiled blouses, 
some smoked pipes ; and every one seemed in 
the best of humor. 

Hello, Fritz,” cried one of the young men 
in a blouse, who^s your friend ? ” 

I don’t know, yet,” answered the young 
man with the long hair. Who do you vant, 
sonny ? ” 



THE ROOM WAS THRONGED 






221 


The Street Singer 

Miss Standish/' answered Chub, sud- 
denly recollecting the name of the young 
lady who had stood at the big man^s side in 
the department store. 

The young German laughed and shook his 
long mane. 

** Miss Standish,'^ called he, “ a visitor for 
you.^^ 

A young lady, engaged with a music roll 
at the far side of the room, looked up ; a 
smile illumined her face at sight of Chub, and 
she held out her hand with a beckoning ges- 
ture. He crossed to her side and she shook 
hands with him. 

I^m glad youVe come,^^ she said. 

“ I almost forgot,” spoke he. I only re- 
membered it a little while ago.” 

“ Sit down,” she invited, proceeding with 
her music roll. The strap was stiff and re- 
fused to yield, and though she tugged at it, 
she could not unfasten it. 

** Let me try,” said Chub. She smilingly 
gave him the music roll; and in a mo- 


222 The Street Singer 

ment his strong young fingers had it 
opened. 

You’re a very giant,” said Miss Standish. 

** I know about straps, all right,” remarked 
Chub. I used to unharness old Mr. Hogan’s 
horse and the buckles on that was bigger than 
this.” 

She laughed and spread out the music on 
the piano. Chub gazed with interest about 
him. The room was a very large one ; 
painters and sculptors, too, had working space 
there, it seemed ; half finished clay models, 
broken casts and uncompleted pictures were 
to be seen scattered about upon every hand. 

Do you know any of this music ? ” asked 
Miss Standish. Chub shook his head. 

I don’t know anything about music,” an- 
swered he. 

“ Nothing at all ? ” She looked astonished. 

'^Only just a little bit. Mr. Travers, the 
choir master at the ’Piscopal church, where I 
sung solos once, taught me some. But I didn’t 
go often enough to know much.” 


223 


The Street Singer 

** It^8 very remarkable/' she said. You 
sing beautifully ; and I thought you must 
have, somehow, been instructed." 

“ I sing ballads mostly," Chub informed 
her. “ An old man, that used to play the 
bagpipes, taught me them ; and people like 
them best." 

“They are sweet and good," said Miss 
Standish, “ and I don't wonder." 

“ Who," inquired Chub, “was that singing 
just now?" 

“ I suppose," replied the young lady, “ it 
must have been I. Did you like it ? " 

Chub nodded, with wide open eyes. 
“ Fine ! " applauded he. “ Fine ! " 

“ I'm very glad," she smiled. 

At this moment a large figure approached. 

“ Ah," said a deep voice which Chub at 
once recognized, “I see our young friend has 
arrived." 

“He confesses he had all but forgotten 
us, doctor," cried Miss Standish. 

“ Well, his presence compels us to forgive 


224 


The Street Singer 

him everything. How do you do? ” to Chub. 
“ I’m glad to see you once more.” 

And Dr. Preston Fairman took Chub’s 
small fist in his great, white, powerful hands 
and smiled through his brown beard. Both 
he and Miss Standish chatted with the boy 
for some time ; a young actor who was among 
those present recited a beautiful, simple little 
poem with such feeling and true expression 
as to bring tears to many eyes ; the flaxen- 
haired German whom Chub had heard called 
Fritz beat his way through a thunderous 
movement of Wagner with the finished skill 
of a master of the piano. After some others 
had performed and sung, there was a lull. 
Suddenly a voice called from across the great 
room : 

Hey, Fairman, bring out your phenom- 
enon.” 

The younger men took up the cry, and Dr. 
Fairman arose, bowed in a mock-salaam, amid 
their laughter, and said : 

About a month or so ago, our friend 


225 


The Street Singer 

Nagle, here,^’ pointing to a middle-aged man 
with a pointed, gray-mixed beard, “ found, 
upon the beach, at a seaside place an untaught 
genius who modeled figures out of wet 
sand, and in very few moments, which would 
be the envy of many a finished sculptor. 
Last winter Mrs. Oakly, who is also here,^^ 
bowing to the lady, “ discovered, in her work 
in the slums, a poor Polish girl who drew 
music from a violin that was like the songs of 
angels. Natural talent must be everywhere ; 
but it is not every day that we chance upon 
it. The greatest books have been written in 
garrets ; the most glorious music has been 
born in the brains of men who were, at the 
time, unknown to the world.” 

** Bravo,” cried one of the young artists. 
There was a smart clapping of hands, and 
much laughter; Dr. Fairman smiled good- 
humoredly, and continued : 

But of all the unlikely places to happen 
upon untutored talent, the heart of a big 
city^s shopping district is the least favorable. 


226 


The Street Singer 

And yet, in the midst of a crush of bargain- 
hunters and resolute ladies determined to 
squeeze the very last drop of result from the 
money they paid out, Miss Standish and I 
myself found — a voice/^ 

Who lost it? asked some one. 

“Be honest, doctor, and advertise for the 
owner.” 

“ It was not lost,” laughed the big phy- 
sician, “ and the owner is here with it to ex- 
hibit its qualities. I introduce Chub Foster,” 
continued he, in imitation of an announcer 
at a lyceum entertainment, “ a young street 
singer.” 

Chub took a step forward, cap in hand and 
made a stilff little bow ; he smiled in answer 
to some low-toned comment about his age, 
but not the slightest embarrassment marred 
his manner ; for Chub was too accustomed to 
sing before crowds in the open street to be- 
come in any way nervous before this small 
and friendly gathering. 

Miss Standish was at the piano and 


The Street Singer 227 

the boy confidently took his place at her 
side. 

He has plenty of nerve/^ said some one ; 
** if his voice warrants it, he^ll do.’^ 

A broken down choir boy, like as not,^' 
commented some one else. His voice is 
probably changing, and badly cracked in the 
upper register. 

Davis talks about the human voice as 
though it were built of planks,’’ laughed a 
third ; ** now my opinion is that the boy will 
prove a wonder. Miss Standish is too fine an 
artist, herself, to make a mistake in this line.” 

During all this and, in fact, since his first 
entrance into the studio, Chub had not ceased 
to search for the face of “ the shadow.” Every 
countenance in the apartment had been in- 
spected again and again ; but the man did 
not appear to be present ; if he were, Chub 
could not make him out. 

But now. Miss Standish’s fingers fell upon 
the keys lightly, in a soft prelude ; the boy 
turned toward her and nodded ; she at once 


228 


The Street Singer 

ran into the measured beat of the accompani- 
ment. The attention of all present was upon 
the young street singer as he tilted his chin 
ever so little, and followed with the words, 
rippling and ringing through the melody like 
dashes of brook water, or the murmuring of 
soft breezes through the thickets. 

“ Ye banks and braes of bonny Doon, 

How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair f 
How can ye chaunt, ye little birds, 

While I’m sae wae and full o’ care I 
Ye’ll break my heart, ye little birds. 

That wander through the flow’ ring thorn ; 

Ye mind me of departed joys 
Departed never to return.” 

At the completion of the stanza there was a 
moment of silence ; Miss Standish understood 
it and sat for an instant waiting ; but Chub 
was startled by it and cast a quick, astonished 
look about the studio. Then, like a burst 
of warm sunshine from behind a gray, wet 
cloud, came a low chorus of delighted excla- 
mations and the soft patter of applauding 
hands. A grin of appreciation shot across 


229 


The Street Singer 

Chub’s round face; these people were not 
quite so demonstrative as the crowds of the 
street, but somehow he liked them better ; 
their encouragement seemed to mean more. 
And, as Miss Standish, with glowing face, 
rippled up and down the scale, he nodded to 
her once more, and sang : 

Oft have I roved, my bonny Doon, 

To see the rose and woodbine twine, 

Where ilka bird sung o’er its note. 

And cheerfully I joined with mine. 

Wi’ heartsome glee I pulled a rose, 

A rose out of yon thorny tree ; 

But my false love has flown the rose, 

And left the thorn behind to me.” 

Where the street boy got his understanding 
of the words and their mournful sweetness, 
and of the tender, regretful melody, is some- 
thing of a mystery ; but his rendering of the 
beautiful old ballad was full of charm and 
feeling. Perhaps i' came from the source sus- 
pected by Miss Standish. As the company 
pressed about the boy, showering their thanks 
and applause upon him, she whispered : 


230 


The Street Singer 

“ Chub, I wish I had known that old 
piper. I’d have had him teach me some 
ballads.” 

Chub stared, not understanding. 

“ He’s dead, now,” returned he. “ But he 
wouldn’t have tried to teach you, though. 
He wasn’t educated.” 

He was answering some questions of the 
blond haired German, who seemed quite 
frantic with pleasure at the beauty of this 
young voice, when Dr. Fairman approached. 

Here, Chub,” called the doctor. “ I want 
to introduce you to our host who had run 
away and left us for an hour or more. Mr. 
Warde — Master Foster.” 

Chub lifted his eyes, and then uttered a cry 
of astonishment. The artist was a smooth 
shaven, handsome man with pleasant eyes 
and a quick smile. He did not at all come 
up to Chub’s ideas of whs t the Shadow would 
look like upon close inspection. Indeed he 
felt quite sure that it was not the man. 

“ Is there anything wrong ? ” asked Dr. 


The Street Singer 231 

Fairman, surprised at the boy^s sudden excla- 
mation. 

** No/^ returned Chub, recovering himself. 

I just was thinking of something, that^s all.’^ 

Mr. Warde shook hands with the boy and 
somehow managed to linger near him, with- 
out seeming to do so, until all the others had 
moved away. There was a curious searching 
sort of a look upon his face as he seated him- 
self beside the boy and remarked j 

You seemed quite astonished at sight of 
me.^^ 

Oh, not so much,'’ returned Chub. 

** Have you ever seen me before ? " 

1 ** No, sir ; not that I remember," said Chub, 

still convinced that this was not the Shadow. 

The artist smiled. 

And yet," said he, you may have met me 
face to face a thousand times upon the street." 

Chub searched the pleasant face before him 
with his dark, keen eyes. 

Maybe so," admitted he. But I don't 
remember." 


232 The Street Singer 

Judging from the way you looked at me 
when Dr. Fairman spoke, awhile ago, you ex- 
pected to see quite a different person. How 
was that ? 

I was thinking of some one else.” 

Some one with the same name as mine ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Chub. I never 
heard the name of the man that I was think- 
ing about.” 

A distinct look of relief passed across the 
young artist’s face ; Chub noted this and it 
puzzled him. 

What does this mean ? ” was the question 
that flashed through the boy’s brain. Some- 
how, he kind of suspects something ; he seems 
to know something, and looks glad because I 
don’t know too much about this man that has 
been following me.” 

But he said nothing, and did not allow his 
looks to betray his thoughts. After a long 
pause Mr. Warde proceeded : 

I came into the room while you were 
singing ; you have a wonderful voice ; with 


The Street Singer 233 

training you should develop into a great 
singer.’’ 

Thank you,” said Chub, quietly. 

Now, if I were in your place,” and the 
artist’s tones were low and hesitating, “ I 
would give all my time to striving to find a 
means of doing this. It is a sort of duty ; 
you have been gifted above the usual run of 
boys and should leave nothing undone to 
make the gift of value.” 

I’ve had no chance,” said Chub. I’ve 
always had to sing in the street.” 

I rather fancy,” spoke the artist, watching 
the lad closely, that you have made some 
friends here to-night — friends who can and 
will do something for you.” 

Do you think so, Mr. Warde ? ” 

** I am sure of it. It only remains for you 
to devote all your attention to your voice. 
And if there is anything else that would 
have a tendency to divide your attention, 
drop that thing at once; think no more 
of it.” 


234 The Street Singer 

There are some things/^ said Chub, that 
canT be dropped." 

Perhaps not. But then we can go on as 
we have been going on — sort of drift with the 
tide, as it were. No harm can come to us by 
so doing; and we do harm to no one else." 

Chub’s keen perception detected a hidden 
meaning in the artist’s words ; and he could 
only ascribe it to one thing. 

He means something about Harry," he 
thought. “ He knows something about him ; 
and wants to get me to give up hunting for 
him. He must know that man I came into 
the building to find." 

“ Something tells me," went on the artist, 
slowly, that you have been engaged in a — a 
— well, a useless sort of enterprise — the sort 
of thing that one never makes anything 
of." 

I’d never be a singer if I didn’t try, as 
you just said," replied Chub. I guess that 
is the way with everything else. I don’t know 
much, of course, but I kind of think that a 


The Street Singer 235 

feller can do anything that he sets himself 
to do/’ 

Some things are impossible, and effort is 
only wasted upon them,” contended Mr. 
Warde, insistently. Now, listen to me, my 
boy. I am rich. I am not forced to paint 
pictures for a bare living, as a great many 
others are. You are a boy with talent that 
needs developing. Place yourself and all your 
affairs in my hands to handle as I please, and 
I will promise you a future that will dazzle 
you. What do you say ? ” 

Chub turned a pair of flashing, indignant 
eyes upon Mr. Warde, and his answer was 
prompt and warm. 

I say, no,” he cried. 

“ Think,” insisted the artist. Older heads 
than yours can manage your small affairs bet- 
ter than you can yourself.” 

Maybe they could,” said Chub. Then he 
added, meaningly : If they wanted to.” 

The artist regarded him questioningly ; 
there was an odd expression of uncertainty 


236 The Street Singer 

upon his face and his fingers drummed nerv- 
ously upon the arm of his chair. But before 
he could speak again, Miss Standish came up. 

“ I’m going now,” she said to Chub ; “ but 
before I do I want you to promise to come 
and see me.” 

All right,” agreed Chub, immediately. 
“ Where do you live? ” 

She laughed and gave him her card. 

Dr. Fairman is going to take Mrs. Oakly 
and me to his hospital,” she informed Mr. 
Warde, “ and we trust you’ll pardon our going 
so soon.” 

It is a children’s hospital, is it not? ” in- 
quired the artist. 

“Yes, and the dearest, whitest little place 
you ever saw. We have been coaxing the 
doctor for a long time to allow us just a single 
peep into the rooms when all the children are 
asleep.” 

“ The doctor is a real philanthropist,” said 
Mr. Warde. 

“ Indeed he is,” declared Miss Standish. 


237 


The Street Singer 

“ And the Fairman Hospital for Crippled 
Children is a standing proof of it. His whole 
fortune, his whole life is devoted to alleviating 
the sufferings of helpless little ones.^^ 

I know a kid who's in that hospital," 
stated Chub. “ The doctor from Europe cured 
his lame leg and he has a plaster thing on it." 

One of the cases of the great Dr. Lorenz," 
said Miss Standish to Mr. Warde. “ Dr. Fair- 
man is a disciple of his, and the Austrian 
physician has done him the honor to say that 
he fully expects to be surpassed by his pupil." 

When Chub left the studio with Miss 
Standish and Dr. Fairman a little later and 
bid them good-by at the street door which he 
had entered in such wild excitement only a 
little while before, he had many thoughts 
crowding in his brain. 

First of these was his disappointment in 
finding that the artist, Mr. Warde, was not 
the person whom he sought ; next the 
strange, insistent words of the same man, 
which seemed to point to a knowledge of at 


238 The Street Singer 

least some phases of the case of Harry Smith. 
Then there was his surprising success with 
his ballad and the ready and instant recog- 
nition of his voice by the people in the 
studio ; and last, the discovery that Dr. Fair- 
man was the founder and head of the hospital 
in which his friend, the crippled match ped- 
dler, had been given the use of his limbs. 

I guess I made a hit with the doctor, all 
right,"' mused Chub, as he walked along the 
street toward his lodgings, and if I can get 
him to look at little Phil Daily, maybe he 
can fix him up, like the other doctor fixed 
Skinny." 


CHAPTER XV 


CHUB FOSTEK SUSPECTS SHADRACK 

Early next morning Chub went to see 
the hunchback in the cellar on the river 
front. 

Hello, Mr. Shadrack I he called through 
the dimness of the place. Where are you ? 

When he came in he fancied that he heard 
voices ; even the single lamp which usually 
burned during the day was out, and he could 
not see the speakers. The sounds of conver- 
sation ceased at his call, however, and as he 
stood in the shadow to allow his eyes to 
become accustomed to the dimness, a tall 
figure brushed quickly by and was gone 
through the doorway before he could get a 
glimpse of any countenance. 

Is that you, my dear ? said the hunch- 
back, coming forward, slowly. “ You are out 
bright and early to-day.” 

239 


240 


The Street Singer 

“ I woke early,” said Chub. I didn^t 
sleep much all night, either.” 

“ Oh, you heard something, then ? ” 

“ Yes. I heard a lot of things, and yet they 
ain’t anything much.” 

That,” said Shadrack, “ is the trouble with 
the things that come in great quantities ; 
they are seldom worth much. Look at mon- 
ish, my dear, look at monish I How little we 
get of that, and see how much it is worth I 
Oh, yes, yes, monish is worth much ; monish 
that is in gold — bright, shining gold, that 
glitters and rings, and is heavy in the hands.” 

Yes ; I guess it’s all right,” remarked 
Chub, seating himself on the table and swing- 
ing his legs, but you can only spend it like 
other kind of money.” 

** Spend it ! ” Shadrack almost shrieked 
the words and as he did so he threw his 
hands above his head in a gesture of wonder. 
“ Spend it ! You are mad, boy, stark, staring 
mad. Who would part with the great, round 
shining gold pieces — the glittering sun-like 


241 


The Street Singer 

discs of red metal that ring so sweetly and 
weigh so heavy. No, no ; you are mad, my 
boy — mad ! They are to save — to save ! 

He sat in his accustomed chair and seemed 
to be trembling; Chub, who could now see 
fairly well in the semi-darkness, watched him 
amazed. 

“ Not,*^ resumed the hunchback, hurriedly, 
seeing the boy^s searching look bent upon 
him, not that I have saved any. Oh, no, 
my dear I Where would I get them to save ? 
I am a poor man — a cripple, and I live upon 
a crust.^^ 

There was a silence of some duration. 
Then Chub asked : 

** Who was the man that just went 
out?” 

^^The man who just went out, my dear? 
Oh, he was a customer, a customer of the sort 
that are hard to please.” 

The great yellow face was damp with per- 
spiration ; and the hunchback crouched so 
low that he seemed like some misshapen crea- 


242 


The Street Singer 

ture wrought by a master sculptor’s hand to 
typify despair. 

Chub did not understand ; he did not know 
how to account for Shadrack’s extreme agita- 
tion, so, to change the subject to one which, 
he thought, might be of interest, he said : 

“ I didn’t make much last night.” 

How could you ? ” demanded Shadrack. 

‘‘Why?” 

“You only stayed on the street a little 
while.” 

Chub looked astonished. 

“ How do you know that? ” he asked. 

Shadrack arose, lit the wick of the oil lamp, 
and then peered through his thick lenses at 
the boy. 

“ It does not matter, my dear,” answered 
he. “ I know, so let that be sufficient for 
you.” 

He had mastered his emotion, whatever its 
cause, to some extenc ; and he spoke in a 
meaning sort of way that aroused Chub. 

“ Say, Mr. Shadrack,” complained the boy. 


The Street Singer 243 

“ sometimes I don’t just like the way you do 
things.” 

“No? And why?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. But it’s funny ; I 
never met anybody just like you ; and you 
say queer things.” 

Shadrack laughed — a mirthless sound, how- 
ever, grim and unjoyous. 

“ After a little, my dear,” spoke he, “ you 
will come to think the same as the good Mrs. 
Daily. You’ll believe that I am a wizard— a 
sorcerer — an alchemist, anything that is 
dreadful, or grotesque.” 

“ No, I won’t,” protested Chub. “ I don’t 
believe in such things. But you get to know 
about matters in a funny way that beats me. 
Maybe it’s because you read old books ; I 
guess they must tell you about things that 
kids don’t understand.” 

“ Wisdom,” quoth Shadrack, “ is a mighty 
thing. It will do mighty deeds when properly 
used b}^ those who have it. But, my dear, it 
will not make monish. I have much wisdom. 


244 The Street Singer 

I have pored over books through all of a long 
life, and yet I am a poor man — one that lives 
upon a crust.” 

Chub gazed at the hunchback long and 
earnestly. He had seen him in many moods ; 
but this one was the strangest of all, and try 
as he would he could not get to the bottom of 
it all. However, one thing was plain ; there 
was no satisfaction to be gotten from the old 
man while he was in such a humor ; so 
Chub changed his mind as to telling him 
about the happenings of the night before, and 
not a great while afterward took his de- 
parture. 

Chub had his breakfast at a little place at 
the edge of a wharf — a small shanty where 
food was sold to the longshoremen, and after 
he had satisfied his hunger he strolled down 
upon the wharf. There was a small inde- 
pendent ferry line that ran from this wharf 
to the far side of the river, up through a 
small cove behind a mid-river island, and 
effected a landing at a rough pier which a 


The Street Singer 245 

person with exceptionally good sight could 
see jutting out into the reed-choked water. 

A small town had been laid out at this 
point by a firm of land promoters or boomers ; 
and on every side of it were waste fields, 
lonely woods and long stretches of marsh and 
river. Chub had frequently crossed upon the 
ferry to this uninviting spot in company with 
other street boys, in quest of nuts in the fall ; 
and it had proved an excellent swimming 
place, for there were no policemen to bother 
one. 

The small, dingy-looking ferryboat was out 
in the stream when he reached the end of the 
wharf, panting and snorting shoreward ; quite 
a number of passengers stood upon its deck, 
and among them Chub recognized two fa- 
miliar faces. They were those of young 
Courtney and his friend Dave. 

Hello! exclaimed Chub. never ex- 
pected to see those two fellers here. And they 
look to be in good humor, too, all right.’^ 

This was true, for the two young men were 


246 The Street Singer 

laughing and chatting, in the best of spirits, 
at the bow of the boat ; and when the craft 
had been tied up, they were among the first 
to spring ashore. Chub managed to plant 
himself directly in their way, in a spirit of 
mischief, and Dave almost tumbled over 
him. 

Look out, will you I ’’ snarled that youth 
in a rage. What^s the matter with you, 
anyway ? ” 

“ Since when did you get a speeding per- 
mit for this wharf? ’’ inquired Chub. A 
feller’d think you was a swell automobile the 
way you come along.” 

The twain had recognized Chub before he 
had finished speaking ; and they stood star- 
ing at him with something like consternation 
in their eyes. 

I see you know me, all right,” went on 
the street boy, grinning in enjoyment of the 
situation. “ Why donT you say ‘ Pleased to 
meet you again ’ ? ThaPs the polite way to 
do it.” 


The Street Singer 247 

** What are you doing here ? asked Court- 
ney, at length. 

Oh, just taking a gaze to see if the river 
was here yet. I was thinking of taking a 
swim if it looked all right.'’ 

You’re just as smart as ever, ain’t you ? ” 
sneered Dave. 

‘‘ Ain’t lost a bit of it, thank you,” said 
Chub. “ I’ve got a little proud of myself since 
the night I showed that I was too smart for you.” 

“ I ain’t forgot that,” frowned Dave. 

“ Nor I either,” put in Courtney, darkly. 

We had a long run that night, thinking 
you’d got the neighbors roused, and we almost 
killed ourselves before we found out that 
there was no one after us.” 

Dave nudged his friend and grimaced a 
warning for him not to betray their misfor- 
tunes. But Chub had seized delightedly 
upon the words, and his imagination conjured 
up visions pf what had occurred to the two 
prowlers in their wild run across the fields, 
pursued by a host of imaginary foes. 


248 The Street Singer 

“ I guess you fell into ditches and creeks 
and scratched yourselves all up in thorn 
bushes and everything else, didn’t you ? ” he 
exclaimed. There wasn’t any fences broke 
under you and spilled you on the ground 
either, was there ? ” 

“ Never you mind,” growled Courtney^ 
angry at himself for making their troubles 
known to the laughing boy. We’ll be even 
with you for it all, see if we don’t.” 

“ And we know a way of getting even, too,” 
cried Dave spitefully ; don’t you make no 
mistake about that.” 

Look out what you’re saying,” said Court- 
ney. It’s you that wants to keep quiet this 
time.” 

Apparently they came to the conclusion 
that it was best to cut short the encounter ; at 
any rate they started up the wharf, growling 
some threats under their breath and Chub 
soon lost sight of them in the thick trafhc of 
the river front. 

A few evenings later there was a steady 


The Street Singer 249 

rain falling, and little or no promise of results 
on the street. 

The rain keeps people home,^’ mused 
Chub as he stood at his garret window and 
looked out at the wet tin roofs. “ And when 
there ainT many people out I can’t collect 
any money.” 

He stood looking out at the window and 
wondering how he would spend the evening, 
when suddenly a thought struck him. 

ITl go see Miss Standish,” he cried. “ She 
asked me to ; and maybe I can hear her sing 
again.” 

He had gradually procured better clothes 
since resuming operations as a street singer, 
and now he got them out and carefully 
brushed and put them on. 

“ This collar is kind of high,” he com- 
plained as he buttoned it on, before his cracked 
bit of mirror near the stairway ; but I guess 
when a feller makes calls he must look right. 
These cuffs get in the way of my hands some, 
too,” he proceeded, as he tugged at them in 


250 


The Street Singer 

order to pull them up, ‘'but we must have 
^em on, for that’s what the man in the store 
told me.” 

When he had completed his dressing and 
brushed his hair, Chub surveyed himself in 
the glass. 

“ I look like one of them fellers what has 
their pictures in the paper showing people 
how to wear things.” He put his hat jauntily 
upon his head and swung himself about. “ It 
don’t feel bad to be dressed up, either,” he 
continued, “ and if I can borrow an umbrella 
from the landlady to keep from getting wet, 
I’ll make a hit when Miss Standish sees me, 
all right.” 

As it happened the landlady had an um- 
brella which she could spare, and Chub sal- 
lied out with it, and stalked grandly to the 
place where he took the car, his head in the 
air and his chest thrown out with all the im- 
portance of a bank president. Miss Standish 
resided quite a distance up town in an old 
house that had stood since colonial times; 


The Street Singer 251 

and when Chub rang the bell, the servant an- 
swered that she was at home. 

“ What name ? asked the girl. 

Mr. Foster, replied Chub, with much 
grandeur. 

The girl smiled a little and departed to 
inform her mistress. She returned in a 
moment. 

Will you come this way, please ? she sug- 
gested. 

Chub followed her into a pretty room with 
polished floor, warm looking rugs and a small 
I Are burning in an open grate to keep off the 
i chill that had come with the rain. Miss Stan- 
1 dish sat at a small table with a tea service 
j before her ; opposite sat an old lady with a 
I sweet face and bands of white hair. Miss 
‘ Standish arose smilingly, as she saw Chub. 

I^m glad youVe come,^^ she said, hold- 
ing out her hand. I was speaking of you 
i but a moment before you rang — and my aunt 
was telling about another wonderful voice 
;ithat she had ” 


252 The Street Singer 

'' No, Alice, no ! '' The old lady had risen 
and was looking at Chub with a glance of 
recognition. It is the same boy ; I had for- 
gotten his name.” 

Mrs. Crawford ! ” exclaimed Chub, in sur- 
prise. 

When we get old, our memories grow bad, 
my dear,” said the old lady. She shook 
hands with Chub, quite fluttered and excited. 

“ I am glad that you remember me, for you 
are a brave, good boy.” 

Only fancy your being old friends ! ” 
Miss Standish laughed with pleasure. ‘‘ And 
so Chub is the boy of the burglar incident. 
Why, it is really romantic, Aunt Jane.” 

Chub was asked to sit down, and more tea 
was brought ; he sat with the cup and saucer 
in his hands and talked with the two ladies 
about his experiences on the streets ; and they 
listened with interest — for it was a new and 
strange world that he opened so boyishly for 
them, and fllled with odd, queer things. 

** Did you ever come upon the boy whom r 


/ 


The Street Singer 253 

Mr. Crawford and I inquired about, that day 
at the fair ? asked the elder lady, at last. 

“ No,” answered Chub, truthfully ; “ I 
hunted for him, too; but I never found him.” 

Miss Standish looked at Mrs. Crawford 
questioningly ; and the latter nodded. 

Yes I ” she said. “ It was Harrison. We 
fancied that he might by some chance be 
among the waifs that inhabit the night side 
of the city.” 

** How strange, how very strange it all was,” 
said Miss Standish in a low voice. “ She dis- 
appeared, taking the child, and nothing has 
ever been heard of her since.” 

As she spoke these words she looked toward 
a portrait upon the wall. It was that of a 
woman — much like herself, yet sadder and 
more wistful. Chub followed the look, and 
as he caught sight of the portrait he started, 
and all but cried aloud. Miss Standish 
caught the muffled sound that escaped his 
lips, and turned toward him. 

I was thinking,” explained he, ** that the 


254 The Street Singer 

picture you were looking at, is a good bit like 
you/’ 

It is my elder sister,” said the young lady. 

Chub’s lips shut in a straight, tight line, 
and his eyes grew round and surprised look- 
ing, as he sat and stared from the pictured 
face to the living one, and back again. 

Dawson has high hopes,” said Mrs. Craw- 
ford, that the fifteenth of November will 
bring about great things.” 

“ The fifteenth of November ? ” questioned 
the younger lady. 

“ That is the day upon which the charge 
of the boy would pass to your Uncle Dawson, 
if his whereabouts were known. Old Robert 
Carlyle, little Harrison’s grandfather, had 
most peculiar notions, my dear.” 

1 can well believe that ; his will shows 
it in every line. He had no confidence in 
women in the bringing up of children, and 
my sister least of all. But Katherine loved 
her child, and when at last the time came to 
give him up she fled with him.” 


The Street Singer 255 

'' Unreasoning terror, I think, must have 
deranged her, my dear/^ 

“ Oh, why — why ! cried Miss Standish, 
“did she not come to us? It is terrible to 
think of what suffering she must have en- 
dured/’ 

“ But not for long,” said the old lady, 
softly. “ She died soon after ; I have the 
note telling the news, still — an unformed 
scrawl such as a child would write. But it 
was true, as we learned upon investigation ; 
the boy, however, we could not trace.” 

During this conversation Chub sat as 
though made of stone, his eyes glancing from 
one to the other as they spoke ; he drank in 
all that was said, greedily, but he never 
opened his lips. At last Miss Standish turned 
I to him. 

“ Of course,” said she, “ as you know noth- 
I ing of this, it cannot interest you.” 

1 “ Know nothing of it I ” mentally exclaimed 

I Chub. 

“ So,” continued Miss Standish, “ I’m going 


256 The Street Singer 

to tell you why I’ve asked you to call upon 
me here/^ 

Yes’m/^ said Chub, expectantly. 

Would you go to school, if you were sent, 
and study hard ? ” 

“ Would I ? cried Chub ; ** well, I just 
would ! 

‘‘ Very well. Dr. Fairman and I have 
talked over something of the kind, but of 
course we could arrive at nothing definite 
until we had heard what you had to say in 
the matter. Some boys, you see,” smiled 
Miss Standish, dislike going to school.” 

I don’t,” stated Chub, decisively. I 
never had a chance to go to any ’cept night- 
school, and I thought that was fine.” 

They talked over it for a long time. Miss 
Standish explaining just what her plan was. 

You need not be afraid of being a burden 
upon any one,” she said, in reply to a ques- 
tion of the lad’s. “Professor Kohler — you 
saw him at Mr. Warde’s studio, they called 
him Fritz — he has agreed to give you a chance 


257 


The Street Singer 

to sing in public. If you succeed, which you 
will, without doubt, you will earn a great deal 
more than enough to defray all your expenses. 
And the seasons are but short ones, and would 
not at all interfere with your studies. And 

after four or five years at school 

Yes,^^ said Chub, eagerly, and what 
then?^^ 

“ Why, Rome, perhaps, or Paris ; the great 
masters of the voice; with a beautiful gift, 
such as you have, anything is possible.^^ 

Chub drew in a long breath. The new 
world that her words opened to him was so 
bright he hardly dared think of it. 

When he left Miss Standish^s it was still 
raining ; he boarded a passing car in a semi- 
bewildered way and huddled up in a corner 
rapturously turning over all the astonish- 
ing things that had been said. The car went 
on and on through miles of rain-drenched 
streets, but he paid no attention. At last it 
stopped with a jolt, and the conductor poked 
his head in at the door. 


258 


The Street Singer 

End of the run/^ he announced. Where 
are you going, young fellow ? ” 

Chub started to his feet ; he was surprised 
to see the car empty of all passengers save 
himself. 

“ My street was about a half dozen blocks 
further north, said he. 

Sorry,” said the conductor. But I 
wasn’t taking notice and didn’t know you 
were asleep.” 

The end of the run was at the river front ; 
it was familiar ground to Chub, so he alighted 
and trudged away homeward, along the 
wharves. In the next block was Shadrack’s 
place, which he had to pass. 

The old man will be asleep,” thought the 
boy, noting the lateness of the hour by a 
neighboring clock and the deserted condition 
of the street. But as he reached a point di- 
rectly opposite the hunchback’s cellar he sud- 
denly stopped and drew back with a quick 
movement into the shadow of a low shed. 

The door of Shadrack’s place had opened at 


The Street Singer 259 

that moment, throwing an uncertain beam 
from the oil lamp upon the sidewalk ; a man^s 
form appeared and ascended the stone steps. 
The hunchback also showed himself in the 
doorway for an instant, as though bowing his 
visitor out. Then the door closed ; and the 
latter strode away down the street with rapid 
steps and bent head. 

It^s Warde,'’ breathed Chub ; it^s Warde. 
He was the man who was in to see Shadrack 
this morning. He looks different, but I be- 
lieve he and the man that followed me and 
Harry all around are the same, after all. And 
Shadrack,^' he paused for a moment, staring 
fixedly at the closed cellar across the way, 
Shadrack has been in with him all along ; 
he’s pretended to be a friend of mine, but he 
ain’t.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR CHUB 

Chub slept very little that night ; he tossed 
from one side of his cot bed to the other, 
thinking and thinking. The suspicion that 
had entered his mind regarding Shadrack 
troubled him the most ; he had always thought 
the hunchback honest and trustworthy ; but 
the man^s agitation of the morning, his visitor's 
hurried departure upon the boy’s arrival, and 
the second visit under cover of darkness and 
rain was more than enough to convince Chub 
as to the old man’s participation in the disap- 
pearance of Harry. 

“ I don’t know how he got into it,” he told 
himself, as he lay, unable to sleep, looking 
out through his little window into the night ; 

but he is in it, somehow, all right. That 
feller Warde must be the man that I was 

hunting for ; I never got a good look at the 
260 


The Street Singer 261 

man’s face, for he always muffled himself up 
in his coat collar and things ; but his coming 
to Shadrack^s in this secret kind of a way, 
and his coaxing me to give up hunting for 
Harry and offering me schooling if I^d quit, 
makes me feel sure of it. I don^t understand 
it ; I don't understand it — I only wish I did ; 
then I'd know what to do." 

He lay thinking for a long time after this ; 
then his muttering began afresh. 

If I only hadn't promised I wouldn't say a 
word until the fifteenth of November, I could 
tell Miss Standish, and Mr. and Mrs. Craw- 
ford and they'd let me know what to do ; but 
I promised not to tell anybody, and I can't go 
back on that." 

He arose, unrefreshed, next morning and 
went out into the streets. It was a gray, 
gloomy day and the rain was still falling. 
Chub's spirits were in accord with the aspect 
of things. 

I feel," he murmured, worse than I did 
on days when I had no friends and no chance 


262 


The Street Singer 

like was offered me last night. I can see that 
ril never be at peace till I find Harry. 

He took his breakfast at the shanty near 
the river ; and just as he arose from the stool 
upon which he had sat at the counter he saw 
Dave coming up the wharf with a hurried 
step, enveloped in a long rain-coat. A second 
glance through the window of the shanty 
showed Chub the little ferry-boat tied up at 
the side of the pier. 

“ He's come over the river again," mut- 
tered Chub. “ I guess he must live over 
there." 

He paid for his breakfast and stepped out- 
side into the rain. Dave was now at the pier 
gate and stood hesitatingly looking up and 
down the street. At last he started off, and 
Chub stood idly looking after him. But 
suddenly he saw something that made him 
gasp, and open his eyes to their widest extent. 
Dave had cut across the street, and without a 
moment's hesitation had run down the steps 
and into Shadrack's cellar. 


The Street Singer 263 

Chub leaned against the wall until he had 
fully recovered himself. 

“ Now’ I’m sure of it,” he cried. Shadrack 
is in it. They are all in it together I ” 

He waited until Dave came out, which he 
did within ten minutes, carrying a securely 
tied parcel ; then Chub went on along the 
wharves, thinking it all over. He was so 
puzzled and bewildered that he paid no atten- 
tion as to where his steps led him ; he turned 
westward, and walked and walked for a long 
time. Passing the commission and ware- 
houses that cluster so thickly along the river 
front he strode into the squalid foreign quar- 
ter and, at last, into a quiet residence section. 
When he finally noted that he was growing 
somewhat weary, he found himself, curiously 
enough, standing upon a broad fiagged side- 
walk gazing across the close cropped grass 
plots of Holland Square. 

“ I guess I’ll sit down on a bench and rest 
up,” he murmured. I didn’t think I’d come 
so far.” 


264 The Street Singer 

The rain had ceased, and the sun was com- 
ing out brightly. Making his way into the 
square he seated himself upon a bench near 
the splashing fountain. He had not settled 
himself more than a few moments when a 
light rumbling of rubber-tired wheels came 
along the walk, and an astonished voice sud- 
denly exclaimed : 

Why, Chub Foster ! 

Looking up he saw Nan Daily standing 
before him ; and in his wheeled chair sat 
Phil, with a smile ofwelcome upon his thin face. 

“ Hello ! ” cried Chub. I never expected 
to see you two.^^ 

What in the world are you doing here ? 
demanded Nan. Why didnT you come 
right to the house ? We have been expecting 
you to come every day.^' 

Oh, I^d a-come some time,” said Chub. 

But to-day I kind of got out here by acci- 
dent, you see.” 

Then you werenT coming to see us at all, 
were you ? ” asked Phil, disappointedly. 


265 


The Street Singer 

** You see/^ apologized Chub, “ I never 
thought of it. IVe got so much on my mind, 
Phil.^^ 

“ About Harry ? questioned the cripple. 

Chub nodded. 

Have you heard nothing of him since ? ” 
asked Nan. 

Not a thing. He seems not to be any- 
where around that I can hear of. And then 
there are lots of things that sort of come 
creeping into the thing, and they are getting 
me all tangled up.^^ 

Nan drew her brother’s chair up close, and 
then took a seat upon the bench at Chub’s 
side. 

What sort of things? ” she asked. 

Chub informed her of his once more catch- 
ing sight of the Shadow ; of the evening in 
the studio ; of his suspicion that the artist 
Warde and the Shadow were one and the 
same man. 

When I ran into the Butlar Building 
after the man that night,” said Chub, I 


266 


The Street Singer 

heard him going up-stairs. And then the 
elevator boy told me that it was Mr. Warde. 
To get to the stairs he’d have to pass the ele- 
vator cage and the colored boy would know 
him, that’s sure.” 

“ But when you saw him you were not 
sure it was the same man.” 

I thought it wasn’t — I thought I’d been 
mistaken, somehow. But when he got to 
talking to me, and hinting and trying to get 
me to give up my search, without really com- 
ing right out and saying so, I got kind of 
mixed up about it, and didn’t know what to 
think. When the man slid out of Shadrack’s 
yesterday morning, so quick, I only got a side 
look at him, and the cellar was dark, at that ; 
but it struck me then that I’d seen him 
somewhere before. Last night I was sure it 
was Warde.” 

But does this make you so sure that he 
and this other man are the same ? ” asked 
Nan. 

** Of course it does. What more do I want ? 


The Street Singer 267 

If it wasn’t, then how would he know about 
Harry ? Why would he want me to give up 
hunting for him ? What would he be doing 
in Shadrack’s so late at night, but finding 
things out about me? — things that I’d tell 
Shadrack, thinking he was a friend of mine.” 

Yes,” admitted Nan slowly, ** it does look 
a little like it.” 

** It looks a good bit like it, I think.” 

They discussed the matter at length, Phil 
listening with great attention as he sat in his 
chair. Finally they drifted to other things 
and Nan asked : 

^^And this Miss Standish, Chub, what is 
she like?” 

She’s great,” answered the boy, admir- 
ingly. “ Maybe she can’t sing, though.” 

Is she rich ? ” 

**I guess so. I didn’t ask her, though.” 

Nan laughed. 

I should hope not,” said she. 

“ She’s going to fix it so’s I can sing at con- 
certs same as she does,” Chub informed them 


268 


The Street Singer 

in great glee. And then with the money I 
make I can go to school. 

“ Oh, how good of her I ” cried Nan, while 
Phil laughed, delighted at Chub^s good pros- 
pects. 

“ But that ain't all," said Chub, with shin- 
ing face. She says that maybe I might 
some time be able to go to Rome or Paris." 

What for?" asked Nan, holding her 
breath. 

“ To study. That's where the singers 
study — all of them. They do things to your 
voice." 

These brilliant rays of promise for the 
future also required discussion ; and inci- 
dentally Nan demanded full and minute par- 
ticulars about everything connected with 
Miss Standish. While discussing her Chub 
happened to speak of Dr. Fairman. 

Oh, that's so," cried he, suddenly looking 
at Phil. I forgot to tell you about him. 
He's the doctor that has the hospital for kids 
that's lame." 


The Street Singer 269 

Is that where the boy who sold the 
matches is ? asked Phil eagerly. 

That’s the same place, all right. And 
they made Skinny walk, and he was just like 
you, Phil, only maybe a little worse.” 

The lame boy’s eyes were filled with long- 
ing as he stared at the other. 

Oh, Chub,” he said wistfully, if you’d 
only take me to see him some time, maybe 
he’d be able to cure me, too.” 

I’ll just bet he could,” declared Chub. 
“ The doctor from Europe fixed up Skinny, 
but Miss Standish says Dr. Fairman is just 
the same kind of a doctor and maybe a little 
better. I’ll tell you what I’ll do ; I’ll go see 
him to-day, and if he’ll come I’ll bring him 
to see you.” 

Oh, will you. Chub ? That will be good 
of you.” 

“ Uncle Jim would give anything if Phil 
could walk and run like other boys. If this 
doctor that you speak of knew that uncle was 
rich ” 


270 


The Street Singer 

But Chub waved this suggestion away. 

“ Dr. Fairman,” he declared, don^t do 
these things so much for money. He likes to 
help kids that's poor and sick, and he put 
all his money into starting a hospital for 'em, 

I heard Miss Standish say. So I'll not tell 
him anything about money," grandly ; “ I'll 
just tell him that Phil is a friend of mine. 
I've got a pull with the doctor, 'cause he's 
going to help Miss Standish send me to 
school." 

It would be best," suggested Nan, “ for 
you to see mother and Uncle Jim before you 
say anything. Come over and talk to mother, 
now ; uncle ain't home, though ; he's got a 
new office, about his mine you know, and 
he's down town most of the time these days." ! 

Chub wheeled Phil to the Dailys' new ' 
home west of the square, and Nan walked be- 
side them. Mrs. Daily was at home when J 
they arrived there, sitting in state at the 
drawing-room window. | 

** Arrah, Chub," cried the good-hearted | 


The Street Singer 271 

creature, ‘^sure youVe as welcome as the 
flowers of May/^ 

Thank you, Mrs. Daily,'' replied Chub. 

“ And what news of dear little Harry ? " 

None at all, ma'am ; I haven't seen any- 
thing of him yet." 

Och, worra, worra, ain't that too bad. 
Poor little felly ; where have he gone to at all, 
at all I " 

I'll And him yet," said Chub, quietly, but 
with closed teeth. I'm not through yet, by a 
long shot." 

Then Nan told her mother what Chub had 
said about Dr. Fairman. 

** Ah, laddie," cried the good woman, if 
our poor Phil could be made well, sure it'd 
make the hearts of us sing like birds. But 
' we've been to all the great professors at the 
hospitals and other places ; and sorra the one 
I of them gave us a bit of hope." 

‘‘ This way Dr. Fairman's got of doing it," 
ii explained Chub, learnedly, “is different from 
i the others. The doctor from Europe that 


272 


The Street Singer 

fixed up my friend Skinny showed him how. 
If he sees Phil I think he’ll say he can do it.” 

** Then,” said Mrs. Daily, emphatically, 

we’ll have him here. Nanny, call your 
uncle up on the ’phone at once and ask what 
he thinks.” 

Nan went into the room across the hall 
which, it appeared, her uncle used as a home 
office ; and in a few moments her voice could 
be heard. 

“ 4-9-2-8, please,” she requested. Yes, 
that is right.” There was a brief wait and 
then she continued : “ Hello I Is that the 

Cyclops Mining Company ? Oh, is that you. 
Uncle Jim? — yes, this is Nan. Why, Chub 
Foster is here — you remember him, don’t 
you ? And he’s been telling us about a won- 
derful doctor whom he thinks can cure 
Phil.” 

There followed a long explanation of doubt- 
ful clearness ; then Nan called : 

Chub ! Will you come to the ’phone, 
please? Uncle wants to speak to you.” 


The Street Singer 273 

Chub entered the office and took the re- 
ceiver. 

** Hello, Mr. Farral,” he called. 

** Hello, sonny, how are you ? 

Pretty well, thanks.'' 

“ That's hearty. What's all this that Nan 
has just been telling me ? But hold on — are 
you doing anything important ? " 

“ No, sir," answered Chub. 

Well, suppose you run down to the office 
and tell me about it yourself." 

“ All right, sir ; if you want me." 

I'm in the Butlar Building," said the 
mine owner. “ Suite 78 ; it's on the second 
floor." 

Butlar Building ! " exclaimed Chub. 

“ Yes ; you know where it is, don't you ? " 

** Yes, sir. I know it." 

“ Very well ; I'll expect you, then. Good- 
bye." 

“ Good-bye." 

Chub hung up the receiver and turned 
to Nan. 


274 


The Street Singer 

'' He wants me to come down and see him/' 
he told her. “ He's in the Butlar Building, 
he says." 

“ Why, I never thought," she cried. “ So 
he is. That is the same building that this 
Mr. Warde is in, isn't it? " 

Yes," said Chub ; “ it's a pretty big place. 
Mr. Warde is up top under the skylight, and 
your uncle is on the second floor." 

“ Now," exclaimed Mrs. Daily, as Chub was 
about to depart, ** don't make a stranger of 
yourself again, laddie. Sure, James was only 
speaking of you the other evening and wonder- 
ing where you were. He has heard Phil speak 
of you so often that he feels as though he had 
known you as long as any of us." 

“ I'm obliged to him and to you all, ma'am," 
said Chub. 

“ He were saying that it were a shame for 
you not to have any schooling and thought 
of axing you " 

Oh, Chub's going to school," cried Phil. 
** Aren't you. Chub? " 


275 


The Street Singer 

The latter then told Mrs. Daily of Miss 
Standish’s promise ; and the good lady looked 
highly pleased. 

Sure, now, but that’s good of her,” she 
cried. “ But, Chub, if they should happen 
to go back on their promise you know where 
to come. James have plenty of money — 
more than he knows what to do with, and 
he’d only be too glad to make a man of you.” 

Chub departed, after once more expressing 
his thanks and promising to visit them soon 
again. A street car soon took him to the 
Butlar Building and he alighted and entered. 

On the ground glass door of a fine suite of 
offices he saw the name 


CYCLOPS M.INING COMPANY 
Cripple Creek, Colorado 


“ He’s got a swell place,” reflected the boy, 
so he must be rich.” 

He entered the general office. A number 


276 The Street Singer 

of clerks and typewriters were busily engaged 
at their desks, and a great air of business per- 
vaded the place. A small boy, attired in a 
short, tight, blue jacket adorned with many 
rows of small bright buttons, approached Chub. 

“ We don^t want nothing to-day,^^ he in- 
formed him. 

“ Don't you ? " grinned Chub. 

No ; and don’t come in here no more ; I 
ain’t got no time to bother with you.” 

“ It’s a pity,” said Chub, solicitously, that 
you’re so rushed with work. Why don’t you 
strike the boss for more wages ? ” 

The boy with the buttons did not seem to 
relish Chub’s offhand way. 

I’ll attend to all that,” he informed the 
street boy ; so don’t you get so fresh.” 

All right,” said Chub, good-naturedly. 

And now, if you’ve told me all you know, 
I’d like to see Mr. Farral.” 

“ Did you want to see Mr. Farral ? ” asked 
the boy, opening his eyes. 

“ That’s what I’m here for.” 


The Street Singer 277 

“ You ought to said it in the first place/^ 
said the buttons in an apologetic sort of a 
way. 

And you ought to have given me a 
chance/’ returned Chub. “ Do you jump on 
everybody like you did me ? ” 

No/’ said the boy. 

“ That’s a good thing, that is,” spoke Chub, 
sarcastically. Because if you did you’d be 
an awful handy kind of a feller to have 
around. The company’d do a lot of business.” 

Say,” said the lad, in a low tone, don’t 
let on to the boss, will you ? ” 

Not me,” answered Chub. “Just you go 
and tell him that Mr. Chub Foster is out 
here, waiting to see him, and we’ll forgive 
and forget.” 

The boy was gone but a few moments. 

“ Mr. Farral says to come in,” he an- 
nounced from the door of the private office. 

Chub found the mine owner sitting at a 
huge oaken desk, working away at some 
papers. 


278 


The Street Singer 

Sit down,” invited Mr. Farral, cordially, 
after they had shaken hands. “ How are you, 
sonny?” 

He seemed to forget that he had asked this 
question over the telephone but a half hour 
before; and sat and beamed upon the boy 
good-humoredly. Chub told him all he knew 
about Dr. Fairman and his work ; and Mr. 
Farral seemed impressed. 

“ Well have to have him look Phil over,” 
he said, at last. ‘‘ He seems to be up to his 
job, and might prove to be the man to per- 
form what the other doctors told me it would 
take a miracle to do.” 

I’m sure he could do it,” said Chub, “ and 
it wouldn’t be any harm to let him try, any- 
how, would it ? ” 

Not a bit. And if he makes that brave 
little nephew of mine walk. Chub, I’ll put ^ 
enough money into that hospital of his / 
to run it for the remainder of his life.” 

For all Mr. Farral was such a very rich 
man, and the head of a large mining com- ^ 


The Street Singer 279 

pany, he was a big, simple creature, accus- 
tomed to nature and the solitudes of the 
mountains ; and he talked to the boy as he 
would to a man whose years were equal to his 
own. But after a while he changed the topic. 

My sister and I want to do something for 
you, Chub,^^ he said, tapping the boy on the 
shoulder with his big, rough hand. You 
oughtn^t to live like you do ; you ought to 
have schooling and a regular home, so’s you 
could be brought up right. Nan says so, and 
so does Phil ; and I guess they are right.” 

Chub then told, for the third time that 
day, of Miss Standish^s offer ; and the mine 
owner seemed disappointed. 

I ought to have the chance to push you 
forward,” maintained he. But seeing the 
look upon Chub’s face, he went on, “ Of 
course you like this idea of singing at swell 
concerts and paying your own way ; and it’s 
right, too, because it makes anybody feel best 
to be independent. But, remember this,” 
and he shook the boy’s hand vigorously, if 


28 o 


The Street Singer 

you ever get stuck in any way, you’ve always 
got me to come to, and you can always de- 
pend on me to do the right thing.” 

Chub was still thanking Mr. Farral when 
the boy with the buttons entered the office 
and handed the mine-owner a card. 

I’ll have to attend to a little matter,” the 
latter told Chub. ** So you’ll excuse me. I’ll 
be back in a few minutes.” 

He went out and closed the door behind 
him, leaving Chub to await his return. The 
boy swung to and fro in the office chair in 
which he sat and gazed admiringly at the 
heavy, handsome fittings of the office. There 
was an inner room, from which came now and 
then the sound of a scratching pen and the 
rustling of papers. Finally there came the 
pushing back of a chair and a movement as 
though some one had arisen. Footsteps 
sounded upon a hard-wood floor and ap- 
proached the door opening into the office in 
which Chub sat. The boy turned his eyes 
toward this, as it opened ; a tall man ap- 


28 i 


The Street Singer 

peared, with some papers in his hand. At 
sight of Chub the papers fell to the floor ; the 
man clutched the door frame with a trem- 
bling hand, and his face whitened. 

Chub stared at him in amazement. Then, 
vaguely, the thought began to Alter through 
his mind that he had seen this man some- 
where before, but where, he could not say. 
He arose to his feet and advanced toward the 
other. 

Are you sick ? ” he asked. Shall I call 
some one ? ” 

No,” said the man faintly ; it is nothing. 
I thank you.” 

And hastily gathering up the fallen papers, 
he turned and reentered the inner room, clos- 
ing the door tightly after him. But the in- 
cident was not yet flnished. The effect of the 
man’s voice upon the boy had been almost as 
startling as the sight of the boy had been 
upon the man. Chub stood in the middle of 
Mr. FarraTs office staring at the closed blank 
door when the mine-owner came in. 


282 


The Street Singer 

Who is that in there, Mr. Farral? asked 
the boy. 

Mr. Farral had sat down at his desk and 
was busily affixing his signature to some 
documents ; so he did not notice Chub's 
emotion. 

“ In the inner office ? " he asked. Oh, 
that's my secretary, Mr. Spencer." 

It's the man with the cards," breathed the 
boy to himself. I didn't know his face for 
sure, but you couldn't fool me on the voice. 
So Mr. Warde and him ain't the same after 
all ; and yet Warde is mixed in the thing 
somehow, too. I don't understand it ; I don't 
know what it all means. It's too much for a 
kid like me, that's what's the matter." 

Sitting down once more in his chair he 
pondered the matter, while Mr. Farral 
worked at the desk. 

But I've got him, all right," and Chub's 
head nodded toward the door of the inner 
office. I've got him. His name's Spencer, 
eh ? Well, I’ll remember that ! " 


CHAPTER XVII 

CHUB CROSSES THE RIVER 

That afternoon found Chub Foster at the 
door of the Fairman Hospital for Crippled 
Children. As it happened the doctor was in 
and listened sympathetically to Chub’s story 
of little Phil Daily. 

** How old is the boy ? ” asked the doctor. 

‘^Oh, about eight,” said Chub. “He’s a 
little, white-looking fellow, and he’s never 
walked in his life, just like Skinny, up- 
stairs.” 

“Skinny walks very well now,” said the 
big doctor, smiling with pleasure. 

“ And Phil would, too, if you’d fix him 
up.” Chub seemed so positive of this that 
Dr. Fairman smiled. 

“ Very well,” remarked the latter, “ I’ll 
make it a point to see your little friend to- 
morrow.” 

283 


284 The Street Singer 

After leaving the hospital, first having 
thanked the doctor warmly for all his good- 
ness, Chub went directly home. He wished 
to ponder over the mystery that seemed to be 
settling about the long-missing Harry with 
ever-increasing denseness. Stripping off his 
coat and vest and shoes he threw himself 
upon his cot, and with his hands locked be- 
hind his head he lay there staring at the ceiling 
and muttering his thoughts aloud. 

Wedl start from the beginning,^^ said he, 
^‘and wedl follow up everything that looks 
as if it had anything to do with this matter 
at all. First : Harry was left to me to take 
care of by his mother. She was dying and 
was afraid somebody — I don’t know who — 
would hurt him somehow. 

Second : The kid stays with me and I 
don’t even let him give away who he is. His 
mother made me promise to keep him dark 
till the fifteenth of November. 

“ Third : Along comes this feller with the 
cards. He seems to know about Harry, and 


The Street Singer 285 

Harry is afraid of him, and so am I — a little. 
But he does nothing but leave the cards, so I 
don^t worry any. 

Then next : I go to the fair at Ashland, 
and meet Mr. Dawson Crawford, the gentle- 
man that I’m to take Harry to on the fif- 
teenth of November. And I also meet a 
feller named Courtney, and hear him and 
this Dave talking about going to steal a paper 
from Mr. Crawford which Courtney’s father 
must have before the same date. Now, what 
for? 

Then next,” and he touched the fifth 
finger, “ I stop them from getting the paper. 

Sixth : I come back to the city and find 
that Harry is gone, and the Dailys, too. 

‘‘ Seventh : I stop in and see Shadrack. 
He tells me where to find the Dailys. 

Next : I see the Dailys. They don’t 
know where Harry is, and I meet Miss 
Standish, who turns out to be Harry’s aunt. 

Another : I see the man of the cards 
again and chase him. Then I meet Mr. 


286 


The Street Singer 

Warde and think they are the same man, 
but am not sure. 

■j 

And next : I think that they are, and 
that Shadrack is in with them. 

“ And finally : This feller Courtney and 
Dave turn up again, on the wharf ; and after- 
ward Dave goes into Shadrack^s, too."' 

The boy paused in his mutterings and lay 
quiet for a long time. Then he drew a deep 
sigh. 

Oh, what^s the use in trying,^^ he said in 
a discouraged sort of way. I canT make it 
out. If I ever find Harry, I guess it'll be just 
by accident, same as I found out to-day that 
Warde and the man that used to follow us are 
not the same, and a lot of other things." 

He did not go out again, not even for his 
evening meal ; but remained indoors, ponder- 
ing over the strangeness of it all. That night 
he slept well, however, for he was weary. 
Next morning while taking his breakfast at 
the lunch shanty near the ferry slip, in walked 
little Marie Neri, her violin under her arm. 


The Street Singer 287 

Hello, Marie ! saluted Chub. Where 

are you going so early, with your fiddle ? ” 

** Across da river,'' answered the little 
Italian maid with a smile. She climbed up 
on a stool at Chub's side and placed her violin 
carefully on the counter. Padre, he is go- 
ing, too. See ; he is out-a side, tying Lorenzo 
with da rope." 

Chub looked through the window to which 
she pointed. A dark-faced Italian, with rings 
in his ears and a gay-colored handkerchief 
tied about his neck, was fastening to a post a 
huge, brown dog, wearing a leather muzzle 
and looking comically wise as it sat upon its 
haunches, his ponderous paws folded across 
its breast. 

Lorenzo looks good, don't he ? " said 
Chub. 

He get fat," said Marie, with a little shrug, 
** and he not want-a da jump." 

Hello, Mr. Neri," shouted Chub, through 
the window. 

The Italian looked around ; seeing the boy 


288 The Street Singer 

he showed his strong, white teeth in a quick 
smile. 

‘‘ Hello-a, Chub,’^ answered he ; feed-a 
your face, eh ? ” 

Yes, a little,’^ grinned the lad. 

Neri came in, leaving the dog lying for- 
lornly by the post. 

“ What’s going on across the river ? ” asked 
Chub. 

“ In da grove dere is to be da — pic-nic, 
what-a you call-a da autumn-leaf excursion, 
eh ? I go to make-a da dog dance, and play-a 
da music with Marie.” 

Chub noticed, during their breakfast, that 
the man glanced at him now and then, and 
spoke frequently to his daughter in their 
native tongue. At last, upon finishing, he 
stood up and bent over the boy. 

“ How you like to go, eh ? ” asked he. 
Across the river? ” 

^^Si. Da pic-nic is da much-a big one. 
Plenty da mon. You sing-a da song, eh ? Da 
dog he dance with da feet, eh ? Marie, she 


The Street Singer 289 

play-a da fid, eh ? Good I What-a you 
speak? 

Chub arrived at a decision instantly. 

“ All right/^ said he, I’ll go. It’ll be 
some fun, anyway.” 

The Italian clapped him upon the back ; 
Chub was an acquisition, for his ringing voice 
would draw people who would scarcely pause 
to witness the clumsy antics of the dog or the 
wailing of Marie’s violin. 

Da’s a-good,” cried Neri ; we make-a da 
mon to-day, all right.” 

Having paid for their breakfasts, they left 
the shanty. While Neri untied Lorenzo, 
Chub patted the dog upon the head and gave 
him a biscuit, between the straps of his muz- 
zle. He was a great, good-natured creature 
and blinked his eyes solemnly as he gulped 
down the morsel and nosed about the boy’s 
pockets for more. Chub and he were firm 
friends, for the street boy loved animals and 
delighted to please and study them. 

They boarded the little ferry, which in a 


290 The Street Singer 

half hour landed them at the pier far up in 
the cove. The picnic ground was no great 
distance away, so they set out for it on foot. 

All day they worked among the picnickers. 
Lorenzo danced and leaped with ludicrous 
dignity to the strains of Marie^s violin. To- 
ward nightfall they ate their suppers at a 
small hotel near by. The landlord approached 
Neri while they were so engaged. 

I say,” asked he, ** must you return to the 
city to-night? ” 

“ No,” said the Italian. 

Good,” cried the landlord ; there are 
some people here who want to hear the girl 
play and the boy sing, in the hotel parlor 
during the evening. If you’ll all stay until 
morning. I’ll make it worth your while.” 

The Italian eagerly spoke to Chub, and the 
latter readily consented ; and so the matter 
was arranged. Marie and Chub played and 
sang, to the delight of the guests of the hotel ; 
and when, at last, all was done. Chub strolled 
out upon the porch for a breath of air. 


291 


The Street Singer 

“ There’s a road running along by the 
river,” he said to himself, after a time. I 
wonder if it wouldn’t be a nice walk up along 
there.” 

He was still considering this when he heard 
a quick step pass the hotel, along this same 
road. The lamp from the porch threw a wide 
stream of light across it at this point, and 
Chub as he gazed, drew in his breath sharply 
as he recognized Courtney’s aid, Dave. 

The young man never glanced toward the 
hotel ; his arms were loaded with packages 
and he walked rapidly along the river road 
as though in a hurry. 

guess I will take a walk along that 
road now,” muttered Chub ; “ there is an old 
friend of mine, and I’d like to see where he 
lives along here. It might come in handy 
some time to know.” 

He hurriedly glided down the path and out 
upon the road. Here and there near the 
hotel there was a lamp ; but as he went on 
these were left behind and the only light was 


292 The Street Singer 

from a crescent moon and the stars. The 
way ran sharply to the river and then turned 
and skirted the stream to the next township. 
When the river came into view Chub could 
see better. The island, across the cove, seemed 
to lie low in the stream, its stunted trees form- 
ing a ragged line along the sky. 

‘‘ He seems to live a pretty good way along,’^ 
murmured Chub, as Dave kept on, upon reach- 
ing the river. “ It^s funny that he picked out 
a lonely place like this.’^ 

For a good quarter of an hour Dave walked, 
without pausing. Chub kept him in view as 
well as the semi-darkness would permit ; and 
at last, as Dave stopped, the street boy sank 
down in the shadow of some thick bushes, and 
waited for the next move. The road ran 
through a marshy strip at this point and was 
built high ; Dave climbed carefully down the 
stony side to the soft level marsh and Chub 
could hear him wading through the pools and 
rustling among the rank water growth until 
the river's brink had been reached. 


293 


The Street Singer 

** He^s got a boat/’ murmured the boy in 
surprise, as the rattle of a chain reached his 
ears. He strained his eyes and dimly made 
out the form of Dave climbing into a small 
skiff and depositing his numerous packages in 
the stern. I wonder if he is going back to 
the city at this time of night.” He reflected 
for a moment and then decided : “ No ; if he 
was going to do that he’d have taken the 
ferry, for it’s still running. I heard the land- 
lord at the hotel say that it had a couple more 
trips to make.” 

He kept his eyes steadily upon Dave. The 
young man was standing up in the skiff push- 
ing off with an oar ; apparently he experi- 
enced considerable difficulty in doing so, for 
the oar-blade sank in the mud, and Chub 
chuckled to see him struggle to extricate it. 

** He’ll pull himself overboard yet,” said 
Chub, well pleased, for he had no liking for 
Dave. *‘He’s about as good as a cow in a 
boat.” 

At last Dave succeeded in getting the skiff 


294 The Street Singer 

afloat, and slipping the oars into place, he be- 
gan to pull out into the cove. Chub now 
climbed down into the marsh and waded to 
the river's edge. For a long time he stood 
there and watched ; at first he fancied that 
Dave was pulling for the island ; but later he 
changed his mind, for now and then the 
skiff's head would be pointed higher up and 
away. 

Little by little Chub began to make out a 
dark loom across the waters, and toward this, 
it seemed, the boat was headed. It was an 
indefinite mass that seemed to rest upon the 
waters ; but try as he would he could not 
make it out. 

Finally the creaking of Dave's oars ceased. 
The small boat lay motionless for a moment ; 
then the light of a lantern, looking like a red 
spark at that distance, flashed from it once, 
twice, thrice, and disappeared. There was an 
instant's pause ; then from out of the darkness 
came a broader flash, some distance up from 
the water, and from the dark mass toward 


295 


The Street Singer 

which the skiff had been heading. It looked 
like the gleam of a ship^s lantern, and as it 
flashed again and still once again, apparently 
in answer to Dave^s signal, Chub made out 
what the dark mass was. 

It’s the wreck of the ^ Storm King M ” he 
exclaimed, the old schooner that’s been 
lying on the bar, out there, for so long. I 
know it, now, for I’ve been past it, yes, and 
on it, too, lots of times.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE HULK OF THE STOKM KING ” 

Chub kept his wondering gaze fixed upon 
the wrecked schooner. The skiff had pulled 
further into the shadow of the hull and be- 
come lost to view ; the lanterns were no 
longer visible ; for, apparently, the two sig- 
nals exchanged had been sufficient. 

There’s somebody on the wreck,” mut- 
tered Chub, and he knows Dave. I wonder 
if he lives there? It’s a funny kind of a 
place to make your home in. But it must 
be so, for the bundles he had looked like 
grocery store stuff ; and he must ” 

Chub paused in the midst of his last sen- 
tence, and a new and startling thought, that 
caused him to fairly gasp, flashed through 
his mind. 

“ Suppose,” said he, with tight shut teeth, 

suppose they’ve picked out that old schooner 
296 


The Street Singer 297 

to live on because theyVe got something to 
hide. And suppose that something to hide 
is — Harry.” 

The thought set him trembling, and fired 
him with an eagerness that he could not con- 
trol. He must get out to the wreck, he told 
himself; he must satisfy the burning anxiety 
that possessed him. It seemed plausible. 
Dave was a friend of the Courtneys — his 
attempt on Mr. Crawford’s papers that night 
showed it. And, if he had played a part in 
that, would he hesitate to play one in the 
kidnapping of Harry ? 

I’d give anything to know for sure,” said 
Chub to himself ; but how am I going to 
find out? It’s high tide, and the bar is 
flooded. There ain’t any boats around that I 
know of ; but I’ll take a look further up along 
the shore ; there might be a Ashing boat some- 
where.” 

He picked his steps along through the shal- 
lower pools of water and rank-smelling growth ; 
his feet sank deep in the soft muck and his 


298 The Street Singer 

progress was necessarily slow ; but all the 
time his sharp young eyes were searching 
among the reeds for a boat. His thoughts 
were so centred upon the search that he paid 
no attention to anything else. At length, 
however, by chance, his glance turned toward 
the ridge-like river road, and for a moment 
he could scarcely credit his eyes. A man 
stood, or rather crouched, upon the road, his 
face turned toward the river, peering into the 
darkness ; his long arms hung down at his 
sides, and a monster hump bulged from be- 
tween his shoulders. 

“ Shadrack ! breathed Chub, instinctively 
stooping among the tall tangle of marsh- 
plants. “ I expected it ! He^s in on this ; 
he has been in on it, all along.^^ 

The hunchback remained in view but a 
moment ; when he disappeared at the other 
side of the road. Chub once more rose to his feet. 

“ I must get out to the ' Storm King,^ ” 
murmured the boy. There’s no boat, so 
there’s no use in my looking any further.” 


The Street Singer 299 

He waded through the reeds knee deep in 
the river, in order to get a better view ; and 
uttered a low cry of satisfaction as he came 
upon a large log with one end imbedded in 
the mud. 

Just the thing,” said Chub, delightedly. 

This will get me out there, all right. I 
used to paddle around among the docks 
on a log like this and know just how to 

,do it.” 

With a very little effort he got the timber 
afloat and clambered astride of it. The tide 
|[was still strongly up-river, and as the point 
of his starting was some distance below the 
wreck, it was a matter of small difficulty to 
direct the log^s course toward it by an occa- 
sional stroke with hands or feet. 

Nearer and nearer he drew to the battered 
land dismasted hulk. The schooner^s bow 
was high upon the bar, while its stern was in 
comparatively deep water. At last the log 
lightly touched the side of the wreck, and he 
1 looked up at the black towering hull. Upon 


300 The Street Singer 

his trips with other lads he had more than 
once ventured upon the “ Storm King’s ” 
decks and consequently knew something 
about the condition of it. The list of the 
schooner was toward the far side, and he re- 
called that upon that side the bulwarks were 
broken. He had just made up his mind to 
paddle around the wreck and try to climb 
aboard when he was startled to hear a strange 
voice, directly above his head, say : 

I guess I’m getting sort of nervous, that’s 
all.” 

“ What did you think you heard ? ” 

This was the voice of Dave, and there was a 
sharp note in it that Chub, in his present po- 
sition, did not like. 

I thought I heard something stirring the 
water below there.” 

What sort of a something ? ” 

** How do I know ? I ain’t an owl ; I can’t 
see in the dark.” 

“ Was it close to the wreck ? ” 

No ; a bit further off.” 


The Street Singer 301 

“ A big fish, I suppose. You’re getting as 
shaky as a kid, Punch/^ 

Well, if you had this thing on your 
hands day and night you'd be shaky, too." 

It won't be for much longer, old man ; 
and another thing, I'm going to spend more 
time with you from now on." 

The man called Punch growled under his 
breath. 

‘^That's what you've been telling me all 
along. But you don't do it. You stay away, 
and I never get any sleep, because I have to 
watch your turn as well as my own." 

“ Oh, don't grumble so much. You're al- 
ways at it. Punch." 

** No wonder. Ain't I got cause? You get 
paid for doing a share of this job, and you 
leave it all to me." 

Oh, shut up," exclaimed Dave. 

His footsteps could be heard crossing the 
deck ; and as Chub hugged close to the 
stranded hulk, he heard Punch's continued 
grumbling. At last, however, the man left 


302 


The Street Singer 

the rail, and Chub was enabled to shove his 
log off and paddle silently toward the stern. 
As he rounded the latter his improvised craft 
struck softly against the rudder and came to 
a stop. Chub crawled forward to extricate 
the log from the splintered woodwork ; then 
for the first time he caught a thin gleam of 
light from over his head. Looking quickly 
up he saw that it came from the cabin win- 
dow of the wrecked schooner, which over- 
looked the stern. A curtain was drawn ' 
tightly across this, but at one corner there 
was a small rent and it was through this that 
the beam of light came. ■ 

“ Somebody’s in the cabin,” muttered 
Chub. “ I guess it’s Dave and that other 
feller ; I suppose that’s where they sleep.” 

He sat astride the log, his legs dangling in ' 
the water, looking up at the cabin window 
and musing. 

I wonder what it is that they are watch- 
ing — can it be Harry, for sure ? But what 
else could it be? I’ll find out before I go 


303 


The Street Singer 

away from here if it takes a month. If I 
could only do it to-night while IVe got this 
good chance, it would save time, though.’^ 

The rudder post and shattered rudder still 
hung in place, and as Chub clung to them, 
looking up at the thin ray of light streaming 
through the rent in the curtain, he conceived 
an idea. 

‘‘ I could shin up that thing all right, he 
thought. There^s lots of places to get hold 
with hands and feet, too ; and if I got to the 
top I could peep in at that window and see 
what was doing.” 

While he was contemplating the best 
means of accomplishing this move, his ear 
suddenly caught a low sound above the lap- 
ping of the tide against the sides of the hulk 
and the light movement of the wind. It was 
a very faint and piteous sobbing — long, dry 
and hopeless, and it sent a thrill to the heart 
of the street singer as he sat there, holding 
fast to the wreckage and listening. 

** Some one crying,” he breathed. And it 


304 The Street Singer 

is in the cabin. It can’t be either Dave or 
the other man ; so it must be ” 

He did not finish, but drew his feet out 
of the water and with difiiculty managed to 
, stand erect upon the turning log. As he 
had thought, there were many places where a 
good hand grip could be had on the broken 
rudder post ; so without more ado he set about 
climbing it toward the overhanging window 
in the schooner’s stern. He reached it after 
some difficulty and much scratching of his 
hands, and clinging fast, he applied his eye to 
the rent in the curtain. 

The cabin was almost stripped of furniture; 
but a small pine table remained, together with 
an oil lamp and a three-legged stool, while a 
heap of mouldy sail cloth in one corner had 
the appearance of being used as a bed. But it 
was not these that occupied the attention of 
Chub. For upon the stool, his head resting 
upon the table, sat a boy, his long, fair hair 
rumpled and tumbled, and sobbing as though 
his heart would break. 


The Street Singer 305 

** It^s Harry ! was Chub’s mental exclama- 
tion. “ Sure enough, it’s Harry.” 

Perhaps there is something in the influence 
of proximity ; at any rate that moment saw 
Harry lift his head and stare wonderingly 
about him, brushing the tears from his eyes. 
Chub had made no sound, yet the other boy, 
somehow, seemed to feel a friendly presence. 
As Chub saw him lift his head, he gently 
tapped upon the glass ; Harry turned toward 
the window with wide-open, expectant eyes, 
breathing short, his already pale face becom- 
ing still paler. Once more Chub tapped ; and 
with slow, hesitating steps the younger boy 
approached the cabin window. There was a 
wide crack around the ill-fitting sash. Plac- 
ing his mouth close to it, the boy whispered : 

Harry I ” 

Who’s there ? ” came the startled reply. 

“ Not so loud,” breathed Chub, his lips 
almost pressed against the crack at the edge 
of the sash. Not so loud ; the two men 
might hear us.” 


3o6 


The Street Singer 

They are on deck/’ said Harry, also in a 
whisper. “ But who are you ? ” 

Don’t you know me? It’s Chub.” 

Chub ! ” There was a delight in the low- 
breathed exclamation that was unmistakable, 
and the boy’s pale face suddenly grew bright 
with joy. “Oh, is it really you. Chub? Is 
it really you ? I knew you’d come ; I knew 
it all along.” 

“ Did you, though, kidsy ? ” 

Chub thrilled with delight as he said this. 
Harry’s faith in him gave him the greatest 
satisfaction. 

“ I did, Chub ; I felt sure of it. I always 
said to myself when things seemed as though 
they’d never get any different : ‘ Wait till 

Chub finds out where I am. Then he’ll 
come and get me, and I’ll be all right.’ Just 
before you knocked on the glass I was crying. 
Chub, and I was leaning my head on the 
table and saying those words over and over. 
And I was praying. Chub, praying that you 
would come.” 


The’ Street Singer 307 

Can't you lift the window a little ? " asked 
Chub, a great choke in his voice. 

“ No ; the frame is nailed in. They were 
afraid that I might escape that way." 

“ Who was afraid ? " 

The men that keep me here." 

Who are they ? ' 

They call each other Dave and Punch. I 
don't know their other names." 

But they ain't all, are they ? " whispered 
Chub. There's some other ones, ain't 
they ? " 

Yes ; but I never see them. They don't 
come down here in the cabin. They come in 
a boat sometimes at night, and they talk to 
Dave on deck." 

How did you come to be here?" asked 
Chub. 

That time when you went to the fair I 
stayed around Mrs. Daily's all day," answered 
Harry. “ But at night I went out for a little 
walk, because I just couldn't stay inside any 
longer. Then I met this man Punch and he 


3o 8 The Street Singer 

got to talking to me. He said you had sent 
him so’s I could meet you at the railroad 
station. And I went with him because he 
looked all right.^^ 

After all I had told you against doing 
that very kind of a thing,” whispered Chub, 
reproachfully. 

Oh, I beg your pardon. Chub ; but I was 
anxious about you, and felt sure that the man 
was telling the truth. But I knew I had 
done wrong before a great while, for he and 
this Dave that I just spoke of, put me in a 
carriage, crossed the ferry and brought me to 
this old ship.” 

Well, it’s done, and there ain’t any use in 
hollering about it,” said Chub. I’ve found 
out where you are, and I’ll soon have you 
away from here.” He paused a moment in 
thought ; then he asked, Have you ever 
tried to get away ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Harry, ** but it was no 
good. They keep the door locked and the 
window is nailed in tight. I broke the glass 


309 


The Street Singer 

one night meaning to try to swim ashore — 
for, you remember, you taught me to swim a 
little, Chub — but Punch heard it and he 
came down here and beat me/’ 

‘‘Oh, he did, did he?” growled Chub. 
“Well, we’ll pay Mr. Punch off for that.” 

“ What will you do to get me away from 
them. Chub ? ” asked Harry. 

“ I’ll have to get somebody to help me,” 
returned Chub. “ A kid like me can’t do it 
alone. Marie Neri’s father is down at a little 
hotel not far away ; I can get him, I know, 
and maybe some one else.” 

They whispered together for awhile longer ; 
then Chub said : 

“ My hands are sore from holding on to 
this broken wood, Harry, so I can’t stay any 
longer. But keep up your spunk. I’ll be 
back again before daylight, and then we’ll see 
what we’ll see. Good-bye.” 

“ Good-bye,” whispered Harry, bravely. 

Chub slid carefully down the rudder post, 
and in a few moments was safely astride of 


310 The Street Singer 

his log. But just as he was about to push off 
he heard a slight ripple in the water beside 
him, and turning his startled gaze in the di- 
rection of the sound, he saw a leaky old bateau 
shove its nose past him and felt a firm clutch 
upon his shoulder. 

Don’t make any noise,” said a voice. “ It 
will do you no good.” 

As he had on the day before. Chub recog- 
nized the voice in an instant. But he turned 
facing the speaker to make sure. 

Yes, it was so ; though the features showed 
but dimly in the imperfect light, still the boy 
knew that he was in the presence of the 
Shadow — Spencer. 



CHAPTER XIX 


THE SCHOONER ONCE MORE 

Chub was still staring at the man in 
, speechless consternation when he spoke again. 

Remain as you are,” he said. '' Til pull 
up alongside of you.” 

The leaky old boat glided alongside the 
log at a few dips of the oars ; then Spencer 
; continued : 

Now get in ; and make no noise.” 

Chub knew that resistance would be the 
merest folly ; so he clambered silently into 
the bateau and sat down sullenly in the stern. 

“ What do you want with me?” he asked, 
I looking at the man from under lowering 
i brows. 

1 I think,” answered Spencer, “ that you 
know that already. So we will not bother 
ij discussing it.” 


311 


3^2 


The Street Singer 

'' YouVe got me, all right,” growled Chub, 
“ so I guess you can do as you like, now. But 
just you wait ! ” 

There was a threat in the boy’s voice, and 
the man smiled quietly, though the dark- 
ness hid the fact from Chub. Somehow or 
other the secretary of Mr. Farral did not 
seem like the same person ; he had dropped 
the secret air and evident nervousness which 
he had worn each time he had presented him- 
self in the past ; there was a new confidence 
and assurance about him. Chub caught some 
of this change ; the darkness prevented his 
seeing the man very distinctly, but Spencer’s 
altered manner spoke plainly in his voice. 

“ It’s because he’s sure he’s got me, too,” 
Chub told himself. He was scared before 
and didn’t know what to do.” 

The oars dipped silently into the water and 
the bateau moved away from the stranded 
schooner. 

'' Where are you going to take me ? ” de- 
manded Chub. 


The Street Singer 313 

Keep quiet/^ commanded the man sternly. 

You'll know that soon enough." 

Through the still, dark waters crept the 
boat ; after he had pulled some distance away 
from the schooner, Spencer turned the bow 
shoreward, and in very few minutes the flat 
bottom touched upon a section of sandy shore 
above the marsh. Almost at the same mo- 
ment two shadowy forms appeared, and made 
toward them. 

Shadrack," muttered Chub, as he caught 
the dim outlines of the hunchback. And 
I’ll bet the other one is Warde." 

So it proved, and it was the latter that 
spoke first upon reaching the water’s edge. 

Well, you’ve got him, I see,’’ laughed he. 

Yes,’’ answered Spencer, '' but I thought 
I’d fail for a while.’’ 

He is a cunning rogue,’’ cackled Shadrack. 
** I know him well ; better than either of you.’’ 

You wouldn’t have known me half so well 
if I’d known you better,’’ said Chub, boldly. 

“ Oh, don’t be angry, my dear. It is bad 


314 The Street Singer 

for the young. I am an old man — a cripple 
who lives upon a crust — and my advice is 
sound. It does not pay to be angry.'' 

“ I don't want to talk to you," growled 
Chub. You're an old man, and I can't say 
everything I want to say, so I'd better not say 
anything." 

Spencer had placed the oars along the sides 
of the bateau with the blades projecting out 
over the stern. He now turned to Warde. 
Well, Ralph," said he, what next ? " 

I guess we'd better have a few moments 
with this rather foolish youngster," answered 
the artist. He seated himself upon the 
grounded bow and continued to Chub : I 

suppose you remember the offer I made you 
the night that you came to my studio ? " 

“ I do," answered Chub, shortly. 

I'll renew that now," said Warde, quietly. 
Take him up, my dear," cried Shadrack, 
his long arm lifted in a gesture of pleading. 

Take him up. Be a man ! Do not throw op- 
portunity to the dogs ! It is a crime — a crime." 


The Street Singer 315 

“We will carry this matter through, Mr. 
Shadrack/^ said Spencer, coldly, without 
your assistance. So be good enough not to 
interrupt.'’ 

No offense, no offense," whined the hunch- 
back. “ I meant it only for the best, Mr. 
Spencer. I thought to convince this youth 
that he was acting wrongly in endeavoring to 
thwart your will." 

Very well — but now let Mr. Warde pro- 
ceed." 

Shadrack crouched close to the ground, his 
lips muttering apologies, his hands writhing 
and rubbing each other convulsively. Warde 
continued to Chub : 

** You are only a lad, and even though 
your experience with the world has taught 
you many things which a boy usually does 
not know, still you cannot have the judgment 
of a man. This being the case, don't you 
• think that it is just a bit silly upon your part 
to persist in this thing? " 

1 No," said Chub, I don't." 

i 

1 

i 


3i6 


The Street Singer 

Use your good sense/^ said Warde, still 
with great quietness. Look at the matter 
in the proper light. You are as one swim- 
ming against a strong current; you cannot 
hope to succeed.” 

“ Maybe not,” said Chub, stubbornly, ** but 
I’m going to try.” 

There was a pause ; then Warde took up a 
new line of argument. 

“ What are you doing here to-night ? ” he 
asked. 

Chub looked at him, but did not answer. 

“ Don’t be sullen,” said Spencer, impa- 
tiently. 

“ I’ll be what I like,” returned Chub, dog- 
gedly. 

“We want you to tell us all you know 
about this matter,” said the calm voice of 
Spencer. 

“ I guess you do ; but I won’t I ” 

A low groan came from Shadrack at this ; 
his lips were muttering, and his deformed 
body was swaying as though in despair. 


3'7 


The Street Singer 

‘‘ You came across here with an Italian, a 
little violinist and a dog,'^ said Warde. But 
what drew you to the wreck ? 

“Oh, I guess you know that, all right 
said Chub. 

“ We have some idea,^^ laughed Warde, 
“ but we^d like to know how you came to hit 
upon so unlikely a place as a stranded 
schooner in a lonely cove.’^ 

“ Oh, I just thought of it, that’s all,” said the 
boy. 

“ I don’t think there is any use in wasting 
any further time with him,” broke in Spencer 
at this point, in the tone of a man whose 
patience was fairly exhausted. “ Let us se- 
I cure him and take the boat out to the 
! schooner. That’s about the only way we can 
\ find out what he’s been doing.” 

As he spoke the man arose from his seat in 
I the bateau ; Warde also got up from the bow 
where he had been sitting. As Spencer 
leaped ashore, he gave the leaky old craft an 
impetus into the stream ; like a fiash Chub 


3i8 


The Street Singer 

was upon his feet and before the others realized 
what he was about he had grabbed up an oar 
and driven it into the sandy bottom again 
and again, propelling the bateau further from 
the shore with every stroke. 

A cry went up from the three men. 

Spencer plunged waist deep into the stream 
in the hope of preventing the boy’s escape, 
but he was too late. 

“ Come back, come back,” shrilled Shad- 
rack. 

Watch me,” jeered Chub, as he slipped 
the oars into the rowlocks. “ I’m going to 
take a little spin on the river ; and if any of 
you wants me, why, come out and get me.” 

The moon was now obscured by clouds and 
a score of sturdy strokes took him out of sight 
of the men upon the shore ; and as the dark- 
ness fell like a pall about him, the excitement 
of his escape died out, and he became again 
tne cautious, hunted thing which his life in 
the city’s streets had forced him to be so 
many times before. In a little time he saw 


3»9 


The Street Singer 

the dark bulk of the “ Storm King ’’ once 
more, and began pulling slowly and silently 
toward it. He had no idea as to what he 
would do when he got there ; but the presence 
of Harry upon the stranded wreck drew him 
to it, and the possession of a boat gave him 
the hope of accomplishing something. He 
drew near, upon the north side ; it was in this 
direction that the wreck listed and the broken 
bulwark would make it an easy matter to 
gain the deck. 

The boy took up a rope which was tied to 
a ring in the bow of the bateau, and made fast 
to the broken rail. All was silent on the 
schooner ; not the murmur of a voice, or a glim- 
mer of light was to be heard or seen anywhere. 

They must be down below,’’ said Chub as 
he clambered, as softly as a cat, to the deck. 
“ I’ll have to look out ; it won’t do to get 
caught again.” 

What he was seeking to do might seem 
like a piece of reckless, boyish folly ; but 
Chub had his reasons. He considered that 


320 The Street Singer 

if Dave and Punch discovered that he was 
aware of the presence of Harry upon the 
wreck the kidnapped boy would be at once 
removed to some other place of concealment. 

“ And when them fellers on shore get out 
here/^ muttered Chub, the ones on board will 
know it quick enough. So I can't wait to go for 
help; I must have a try at it, all by myself." 

He crept along the deck noiselessly, peer- 
ing into the shadows and listening for any 
sounds that might be made by the two men 
whom he had heard upon his previous visit. 
At last he came to the companionway ; for a 
long time he remained bent over it, his head 
inclined to catch the expected voices or other 
sounds which would tell of the presence of 
Harry's guards. 

But he heard nothing ; and at length he 
cautiously ventured to descend the steps 
toward the cabin. With the soft padded foot 
of a jungle animal he passed from one rickety 
step to another, until at last the cabin door 
was before him. 


The Street Singer 321 

His heart bounded as he caught sight of a 
huge brass key in the lock. 

'' They've forgotten it," panted the street 
boy, almost suffocated by the excitement of 
the moment. Now is my chance." 

He grasped the key and a shock ran 
through him when he realized that the door 
was not locked. Grasping the handle quickly 
he threw it open ; the cabin was in the same 
condition as it had been when he had peered 
into it through the stern window a short time 
before ; but Harry was gone. Chub realized 
this with a cry that he could not choke back ; 
and as his eyes roved about the room they 
caught sight of a small slip of paper pinned 
to the table near the lamp. Snatching it up 
he read these words : 

are off with the kid. I^ext 
time you’d better work faster if you 
hope to beat us out. 


AND X.” 


CHAPTER XX 


AT LAST 

Chub rushed up the companionway like 
one demented, and glared about over the 
gloomy waters. Nothing was to be seen save 
a dull red glare from a collier^s stack as it 
ascended the river on the other side of the 
island ; not a sound was to be heard but the 
lapping of the tide against the sides of the 
hulk. 

“ Gone I ” cried the boy ; gone once 
more.’’ 

For the first time since his very early child- 
hood, before he ran away from the poorhouse. 
Chub Foster felt the big, hot tears rise in his 
eyes ; a sort of numb despair clutched at his 
heart as well ; he could see another long, 
hopeless hunt for Harry rising before him in 
the future. But this only lasted for a mo- 
ment; in the next he threw off the feeling, 
322 


The Street Singer 323 

made a dash for the side and jumped into the 
bateau. 

** They must be around here somewhere/^ 
he whispered to himself as he jerked the 
boat^s head out into the stream, past the 
stern of the wreck. ‘^And I think I know 
where they went.’' 

With strong, if somewhat awkward strokes, 
he pulled the bateau down the cove against 
the tide. Chub’s active brain, almost in a 
moment, had reasoned out what the kid- 
nappers would be most likely to do. They 
could not cross the river to the city with 
Harry in an open boat, because if they did so 
they would be compelled to risk his betraying 
them in the streets while they searched for a 
vehicle to convey him to a place of security. 

It was more than likely that they would 
try to procure a conveyance on that side of 
the river, then drive down the river road to 
the big ferry far below, and cross that way. 

The hotel where I was to-night is the 
place,” panted Chub, as he labored at the 


324 The Street Singer 

oars. ** They have carriages there, and I 
guess these fellers know it. I'll pull down 
there first, and then to the town further 
down, if I don't find 'em." 

In about a quarter of an hour he saw the 
lights of the little hotel, which sat some dis- 
tance back from the river. He was just about 
pointing the leaky old bateau in that direc- 
tion when the faint murmur of voices from 
further out in the river reached his ears. The 
boy rested upon his oars and listened intently ; 
then by degrees he made out a skiff, pulling 
slowly toward the island and containing three 
persons. 

Two men and a boy ! " was Chub's exclam- 
ation. “ I've got them." 

Slowly the bow of the bateau came around, 
and headed after the skiff. Chub pulled with 
the utmost caution ; he allowed the skiff to 
pass out of sight in the darkness and followed 
by sound alone, for to keep it in view meant 
the possibility that he himself might be ob- 
served. Nearer and nearer the skiff ap- 


The Street Singer 325 

proached the island, and nearer Chub crept 
up on it as the shadows of the stunted trees 
threw themselves across the shallowing water. 
At last the prow of the skiff grated upon the 
sand and its occupants climbed silently out. 

Chub ran the bateau into a little sheltered 
place further down and crept ashore. With 
soft footsteps he stole along among the trees, 
which grew almost to the water’s edge, and in 
a few moments was crouching in a clump of 
bushes less than a half dozen yards from the 
men and the boy. It was impossible to 
distinguish any of their features, but their 
voices were plainly to be heard. 

Have you got it? ” one of the men asked 
the other. 

“ No ; it can’t be here,” answered the other. 

^‘It was put right there in those sumac 
bushes,” protested the first man. 

Then both began a search in some bushes 
near Chub, thrashing through them with 
hands and feet and muttering impatiently. 

‘‘ I wonder what it is,” thought Chub, as 


326 The Street Singer 

he stooped low, listening, with quickly beat- 
ing heart. 

The boy who had come in the skiff sat 
quietly upon the end of a log and waited for 
them to finish their search. The darkness 
almost hid him, but his drooping attitude 
caused Chub to think that he was about half 
asleep. 

If I could reach him,'^ muttered the street 
boy, “ without those fellers seeing me, maybe 
I could sneak him away in the bateau.^’ 

He began to crawl through the bush with 
this intention in view ; but he had not pro- 
gressed a yard, when one of the men ex- 
claimed : 

“ Hello, here it is ! 

“ Ah, you’ve got it, have you ? ” 

Yes ; and it’s just as we left it yesterday.” 

Well, get it into the boat ; the tide’ll soon 
be swinging down and we must get past the 
point inside of an hour if we want to do any 
fishing to-night.” 

Fishing ! Chub gave voice to something 


The Street Singer 327 

like a sob, and a great lump arose in his 
throat as he realized what the words meant. 
The men were not those whom he sought ; 
and that the boy on the log was not Harry 
the next utterance proved conclusively. 

Well, put the bucket of bait in the boat, 
now that you’ve found it, and give that boy 
a dig in the ribs, for he’s fallen asleep.” 

The man with the newly-discovered bait 
shook the boy roughly. 

** Here, you, Peter,” he cried ; wake up. 
This is the last time you’ll come out with us, 
for I see you can’t keep awake.” 

The boy muttered something in a thick, 
sleepy voice and struggled to his feet. Then, 
as Chub watched, they all got back into the 
skiff, shoved off and rowed away from the 
island. 

** Oh, why did that have to happen ! ” ex- 
claimed Chub. Now, maybe, the others are 
in a carriage and on their way to the ferry, 
and I’ll miss them.” 

He ran, stumbling over tree-roots and vine- 


328 The Street Singer 

stems, through the brush to the place where 
he had left his boat. 

It lay just where he had left it, and leap- 
ing in he ran out the oars and pulled desper- 
ately across the cove. He landed just a little 
below the hotel and sped up the shore. 

“ They may be trying to get a carriage, just 
as I thought,’’ panted Chub as he drew near 
to the hotel ; “ and if they are I’ll spoil their 
plan, that’s all.” 

He approached the building from the rear, 
that being the most direct way. The trees 
with which the hotel was surrounded were 
especially thick upon this side, and as Chub 
groped his way slowly along among them, he 
stumbled across a huge hairy body which lay 
directly in his path, and fell upon it with 
a thud. In an instant he felt a pair of huge 
paws upon his chest and a hot breath upon 
his face, while a rumbling growl saluted his ear. 
But the truth flashed upon him instantly. 

“ Lorenzo,” he called. “ Lorenzo, don’t 
you know me? ” 


The Street Singer 329 

The performing dog, which had somehow 
slipped his rope and made off to sleep among 
the trees in freedom, snuffed at his captive for 
a moment, and then with a low whine re- 
leased him. 

It’s a good thing this old joker recognized 
my voice,” said Chub ; “ or maybe he’d have 
chewed me all up.” 

He was patting the dog’s big head and 
whispering in his shaggy ear when the sound 
of light wheels came down the back road im- 
mediately behind him. His pulse bounded 
and he ran rapidly toward the sound. As he 
reached the road a closed carriage drawn by 
a single big white horse halted before him. The 
man on the box leaned forward and whispered : 

Hey, Punch, where are you ? ” 

“ Here,” came the low reply, from the other 
side of the road. 

Chub’s heart beat like the strokes of a ham- 
mer; he crept nearer and nearer, his eyes 
straining to pierce the gloom, his ears to hear 
the low spoken words. 


330 


The Street Singer 

''This is the best I could do/’ said Dave 
from the carriage box. " He’d only let me 
have a one-horse trap and we’ve got to drive 
it ourselves.” 

" We can do that all right,” said Punch, 
" and it’s all the better ; for now we’ll have no 
coachman poking his nose into our busi- 
ness.” 

" Well,” spoke Dave, " get the kid in and 
we’ll be ofP.” 

" Do you think we’ve been followed ? ” 

" No ; we were too quick for them. They 
won’t know where to look now.” 

A moment or two later there was a deep 
rustling among the bushes at the other side of 
the road ; Chub could distinctly hear the man 
Punch breathing heavily. 

" He’s little,” growled the man, " but he’s 
no feather-weight at that.” 

" Can you open the door ? ” asked Dave, 
still upon the box. 

" I guess so.” 

Punch had his hand upon the carriage door 



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331 


The Street Singer 

as he uttered these words ; in one arm 
he bore the limp form of the kidnapped 
boy. 

1 think/^ said he, “ that I’ll have to loosen 
up on these ropes and things that you’ve tied 
him with. He’s fainted.” 

“ Oh, wait till we get away from here,” ob- 
jected Dave impatiently. Daylight ain’t far 
off, and we must make time.” 

All right,” answered Punch ; just as 
you say.” 

He threw open the carriage door as he 
spoke, and was in the act of placing the 
senseless form of the boy within, when a 
small, supple form darted across the road like 
a wildcat and grappled with him. With an 
exclamation of surprise Punch strove to 
throw Chub off, but could not. In the 
struggle Harry slipped from his hands and 
fell limply upon the hard road. 

“What in the mischief’s the matter?” 
cried the astonished Dave, leaning over and 
not clearly making out the affair. 


332 The Street Singer 

It’s the boy,” cried Punch. ** He’s found 

us.” 

Dave growled out something from between 
his teeth and shifted the long whip that he 
held in his hand. 

I’ll give him a tap with the butt end of 
this. Hold him over here, Punch, where I 
can reach him.” 

Obediently Punch did as the other directed. 
Chub, in spite of his desperate resistance, was 
bent forward well within reach of the heavily 
loaded butt of the whip ; it was lifted wick- 
edly above his head ; but at the moment that 
would have seen it fall, a huge leaping form 
crossed the road in front of the horse and 
made at Punch with a growl of rage. The 
man dropped Chub and sprang back with a 
cry of fear ; the horse, frightened at the sud- 
den appearance of the dog, reared and plunged 
for an instant, and then went dashing madly 
down the dark road, with Dave clinging des- 
perately to the high seat. 

Lorenzo, without Chub’s knowledge, had 


333 


The Street Singer 

followed the lad toward the road ; and when 
his slow, honest brain realized that a friend 
was being misused he had at once offered bat- 
tle. And now he stood facing Punch, his eyes 
glinting redly in the darkness, and his deep 
growl rumbling from his mighty chest. 
Then he made a rush ; but the man did not 
wait to receive it, for at the first indication of 
further hostility upon the part of the huge 
dog, he turned and raced down the road in 
the same direction as the flying carriage. 


CHAPTER XXI 


SPENCER EXPLAINS 

Chub was at Harry’s side in an instant ; he 
found that the boy was tied with strong cords 
and a handkerchief fastened over his mouth. 
As Chub cut the cords and tore off the gag 
Harry aroused himself as from a stupor. 

“ Don’t hurt me,” he pleaded. 

All right, kidsy,” assured Chub. You 
ain’t going to get hurt.” 

Chub,” cried Harry, in amazement. 

Yes, it’s Chub,” said the street boy, sooth- 
ingly. 

He was helping the younger lad to his feet 
when heavy footsteps sounded, near at hand. 
The dog growled deeply ; but in a moment 
this changed to a gruff bark of welcome as his 
master, Neri, and the landlord of the hotel 
came into view. 


334 


335 


The Street Singer 

** Ah, here-a you are, Lorenzo ! cried Neri. 
Bad-a dog ; I link you run-a away. We 
look for you all-a over da place.^^ 

As the man spoke there came a long cry 
from far down the dark road and a dull, rend- 
ing crash. 

What^s that ! ” cried the landlord in alarm. 

The carriage,” answered Chub. “ The dog 
scared the horse, and it ran away.” 

Some-a one hurt,” ejaculated the Italian. 
“ You hear him make-a da shout ? ” 

And with that all four started on a run 
down the road in the direction of the sound ; 
Neri first, with the dog leaping about him, 
the landlord next, while Chub, almost drag- 
ging Harry along, followed after. 

In a very few moments they came upon 
the carriage, overturned and badly smashed ; 
Dave lay in the road where he had been 
thrown, and gathered about him ^vere four 
men, the sight of whom made Chub shrink 
back in alarm. They were Punch, Shadrack, 
Warde and Spencer. 


336 


The Street Singer 

“ Hello/' said the latter as he flashed a 
lantern, which he carried, upon the newcom- 
ers. “ Here are both boys now." 

Chub recovered from his first alarm quickly. 
The Italian was a strong, courageous man, and 
the landlord seemed entirely capable ; and the 
dog was no mean ally. It was not at all like 
facing them alone. 

“ Yes," said the lad, boldly, here we are. 
What are you going to do about it ? " 

“ We can do nothing," spoke Mr. Warde, 
except congratulate you." 

What for? " asked Chub, suspiciously. 

“ For your courage and cleverness." 

The others were gathered about the pros- 
trate figure of Dave ; Warde and Spencer 
came close to the two boys ; Chub gripped 
nervously at Harry's arm and held the dog 
by the collar. The two men laughed as they 
saw this 

I suppose," said Spencer, that I'll have 
to tell you all about it before you can put any 
confidence in us." 


The Street Singer 337 

You'll have to tell me a lot before I do 
that," answered the boy. 

“ What," asked the man, do 3^ou suppose 
brought us three men here to-night? " 

“ So's you could watch Harry here," re- 
turned Chub, promptly. You were afraid 
I'd find him." 

You're wrong. We followed you here in 
order that we might recover him from you. 
We thought you had him hidden away." 

Me hide him ! What for ? " 

“ You thought me your enemy ; and when 
the lad disappeared last August I fancied that 
you had hidden him so that I could not find 
him." 

If that is the case," spoke Chub, shrewdly, 
“ how do you know, now, that I didn't? " 

Within the last few moments," said 
Spencer, pointing to Punch, we learned 
enough from that man to convince us that 
you had nothing to do wnth the matter." 

But," protested Chub, I ain't had any- 
thing to convince me that you people didn’t," 


338 


The Street Singer 

“ Well, that's so, my boy, and you shall 
hear something about that in a very short 
time. But first we must give a hand with 
this man who is hurt, for I see they are about 
to move him." 

Warde and Spencer thereupon went to the 
assistance of Neri and Punch, and bearing 
Dave between them they made their way 
toward the hotel. 

I'll hurr}^ on ahead," said the landlord, 
and have a carriage ready ; and we'll send 
him to the hospital." 

On the way Shadrack crept up to Chub. 
“ Oh, you have found him, my dear." He 
rubbed his long-nailed hands and chuckled. 
Chub regarded him askance. 

I don’t know what to think of all this, 
Shadrack," said he. “ So we'll wait until I've 
made up my mind before I have anything to 
say." 

Dave was sent off to a hospital as soon as 
they arrived at the hotel ; then all concerned 
gathered in the landlord's private parlor 


339 


The Street Singer 

and Spencer began his promised expla- 
nation. 

“ There are many things, my boy,’^ said he, 
to Chub, regarding this case which I think 
you know. To begin with : do you know 
who lam?’' 

“ You are,” ventured Chub, Mr. Craw- 
ford’s son.” 

*^That is correct,” said the other, a flush 
upon his face. “ I am the foolish son who at 
one time robbed a good father, and then ran 
away and hid himself in shame until such 
time as he could redeem himself. To this 
end I took upon myself the guardianship, so 
to speak, of one in whom I knew my father 
was greatly interested — this boy, Harrison 
Mandeville Carlyle. 

“ I had heard that the boy’s mother had left 
her father-in-law’s house, because the old man 
had decreed that she must part with her boy 
— give him up to a relative, Ralph Courtney, 
to rear. Courtney is a hard, selflsh man,” 
and the speaker turned to Warde, “and dis- 


340 


The Street Singer 

liked the boy. The mother feared him, and 
rather than give up her child she fled with 
him. 

“ I met her while I was still an outcast, and 
she recognized me at once and told me her 
story. She had feared to seek refuge with her 
sister, Miss Standish, or her aunt — my mother, 
because they had once advised her to give up 
her son to Courtney so that he might not lose 
his grandfather's fortune, which depended 
upon the following out of this condition." 

I see," said Warde, she feared to trust 
even them, after this." 

“ Exactly. Well, the mother gave me her 
address ; and then apparently repented of it, 
for when I called to see her next day she had 
gone — no one knew where. She had, after 
consideration, made up her mind not to trust 
me either. I found her out later, however ; 
but I did not allow her to know this, as I had 
no desire to frighten her. Shortly after this 
she died and the child passed into your care. 
Chub," nodding to the boy. 


341 


The Street Singer 

** I discovered, by overhearing a conversa- 
tion of the two lads, one night, and through 
other sources, the promise which the dying 
mother had exacted from Chub and the rea- 
sons for it. I saw that he was in every way 
capable of fulfilling his charge, and so did not 
obtrude my services on him, merely keeping 
them in view constantly to see that no harm 
came to them, and using means which I cal- 
culated would prevent them forgetting the 
fifteenth of November, the date when the 
danger of the boy going to Courtney would 
be over.” 

Chub drew in a long breath, but still he 
spoke no words, only listened intently. 

“ Then,” continued Spencer, or Horace 
Crawford, to call him by his real name, 
** came the time when Mr. Farral came back 
from the west, and the boy Harrison disap- 
peared. I at once jumped to the conclusion 
that Chub had hidden him away, through a 
fear of me, which I now see my methods must 
have generated in him. I set about watching 


342 The Street Singer 

him at night, but could learn nothing. One 
night, after you, Warde, had so kindly recom- 
mended me to Mr. Farral for the post of sec- 
retary, the boy discovered me and ran after 
me into the Butlar Building. But, ^s you 
remember, I met you in the lower hall and 
you showed me a stairway by which I avoided 
the lad.’’ 

‘'Then you were with Mr. Warde that 
night ! ” ejaculated Chub. “ The elevator boy 
didn’t say anything about that. He only 
spoke of Mr. Warde. And for a little while I 
thought you were the same man.” 

“ Oh, I understand,” spoke Warde. “ That 
is why you regarded me so strangely that 
night in my studio.” 

“ Why,” demanded Chub, leaning forward 
and speaking in a clear tone, “ did you try to 
coax me not to look for Harry any more? ” 

“ I did not,” answered Warde. “ I see that 
we have another misunderstanding to deal 
with here. My object in so speaking to you 
that night was to induce you to give up what 


343 


The Street Singer 

we considered a boyish notion of secrecy. I 
wanted you to produce the other boy and go 
on living as before with him.” 

“ But I didn^t know where he was.” 

‘^So we have since discovered,” said Horace 
Crawford, but at that time and for long after 
we were convinced that you did. We knew 
that you frequented Shadrack’s place ; we 
thought that he might be in your secret ; 
Mr. Warde went to him one morning early 
and offered him money to tell.” 

** Oh I that was the morning that Shadrack 
was so broken up,” reflected Chub. 

They offered me monish — in gold, my 
dear,” whined the hunchback, “ for a secret 
which I did not have ; can you wonder that I 
was disturbed ? ” 

Why didn^t you tell me ? ” demanded 
Chub, suspiciously. 

''How could I? You never came to my 
shop afterward.” 

" But how about that feller Dave that I sav/ 
going into your place, too ? ’’ 


344 The Street Singer 

“ He came to buy old magazines, my dear, 
to while away the time while he watched the 
prisoner on the wreck, I suppose. So you saw 
him coming in and out, did you ? Oh, Solo- 
mon, there is sharpness 1 The lad is a great 
lad.’’ 

‘‘ Another thing that made me think you 
were working against me,” said Chub, still 
unconvinced, “ was your knowing where I 
could find Mrs. Daily that time. It didn’t 
look right.” 

Shadrack laughed. 

It is simple,” cackled he. I have many 
old newspapers ; so when you left me that 
morning I hunted out those of dates near that 
upon which you said that Mr. Farral returned 
to his sister. You did not know the gentle- 
man’s name, then, nor did I ; but when I came 
upon an item in one of the papers which said 
that Mr. James Farral, late of Cripple Creek, 
had just leased, ready furnished, the house of 
Mr. Oliver Gardiner, in Holland Square, West, 
why, I thought that it might be the same.” 


345 


The Street Singer 

Oh/’ said Chub, “is that how it was? 
But how about the wreck,” to Crawford and 
Warde, “ if you didn’t know that Harry was 
there what were you doing there ? ” 

“ We had followed you,” answered Warde, 
“ and thought we had at last discovered the 
place in which you had concealed the boy 
which Mr. Crawford so desired to find. We 
were astonished to learn that there were 
others on board the wreck and thought they 
were confederates of yours until after you so 
cleverly made off with our boat.” 

“ We were approaching this place by the 
back road,” put in Crawford, “ when we heard 
a crash and in a few moments came upon the 
overturned carriage. We were doing what 
we could for the man Dave when the other 
man came up breathless and badly frightened. 

“ He had no idea as to who we were, and 
began muttering that he’d never dare to face 
Courtney again — that the boy was gone, and 
many more things in that strain, and in a very 
few moments we had a full confession from him.” 


346 The Street Singer 

“ What the gent says is right/’ spoke Punch 
from a corner of the room. 

Are you satisfied ? ” asked young Craw- 
ford, smiling at Chub. He arose and held 
out his hand as he spoke ; the boy took it 
promptly, a grin upon his face. 

“ Say,” remarked he, it was an awful mix 
up, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ It was indeed,” said the other, and I’m 
glad indeed that we’ve got the snarls out of 
it at last.” 

And now,” said Mr. Warde, what is to 
be done with the boy ? ” nodding toward 
Harry, who had sat upright in a chair during 
all this talk, drinking it in. 

Chub is his guardian,” laughed Crawford. 

So let us not interfere with him.” 

Not till the fifteenth of November,” said 
Chub. 

“Very good.” Crawford now turned his 
attention to Punch. “ Well, my man, what 
are we to do with you ? ” 

“ Let me go, boss,” pleaded Punch. “ I 


347 


The Street Singer 

didn’t have any real reason for stealing the 
boy that day. Courtney paid me to do it and 
to watch him. I’ll leave it to the boy him- 
self if I ever treated him badly.” 

No, he didn’t,” affirmed Harry. It was 
always Dave.” 

** All right,” said Crawford. As none of 
the others will in any likelihood be punished, 
there is no reason why you should. I’ll give 
you your freedom upon one condition.” 

What’s that ? ” 

That you keep silent as to what has hap- 
pened — that you in no way notify Courtney 
as to what has occurred.” 

Good,” cried Punch. I give you my 
word on it, boss.” 

And rising, he stood bowing in the door- 
way for a moment, then was gone. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE FIFTEENTH OF NOVEMBER 

The great clock in the drawing-room of 
Mr. James Farral struck eleven upon the fif- 
teenth of November, and at the moment of its 
striking Mr. Ralph Courtney and his son 
Richard ascended the steps. They were 
about to press the door button, when a voice 
at their side said : 

Allow me, gentlemen.*^ 

They turned and found themselves looking 
into the round, good-humored face of Chub 
Foster. 

Nice day,” said the latter, as he rang the 

bell. 

“ What do you want here ? ” asked young 
Courtney, frowningly. 

** Oh, I have to go in once in awhile,” an- 
swered Chub. You can^t expect a feller to 
stay out in the street all the time.” 

348 


349 


I The Street Singer 

“ We want none of your sauce, young man,” 
said Mr. Courtney, sternly. 

(IS ** All right,” grinned Chub, ‘‘ I ain’t hand- 
I ing out any to-day. I’ve got other things to 
; do.” 

I ^*You had better get away from here,” 
[ warned Richard. ‘‘ Do you know who lives 
here ? ” 

' ** Sure,” said Chub, 

j' “Who?” 

I “ I do.” 

* “ You do ? ” sneered Richard ; “ well the 

I gall of these street boys. Why, this is the 
home of the great mine owner, Mr. Farral.” 

** Is that so?” said Chub, pretending to be 
^ greatly impressed. And are you going in to 
see him ? ” 

Mr. Courtney had turned away and was 
paying no further attention to Chub ; but his 
son kept up the conversation. 

I Yes,” he answered, coldly. “ We have 
business here.” 

** What kind of business ? ” 


35 ° 


The Street Singer 

“ Richard,” said Mr. Courtney, shai'ply, 
** send that vagabond away/’ 

Vagabond,” cried Chub, indignantly, as 
he looked down at his new and well-fitting 
clothes. “ Well, that’s rich ! ” 

But he recovered his temper in a moment 
and went on : 

Say, your business ain’t got anything to 
do with the date, has it? ” 

“ The date,” repeated Richard wonderingly. 

“ Sure ; this is the fifteenth of November, 
ain’t it? ” 

Mr. Courtney’s face turned a trifle white ; 
but before he could speak the door was opened 
and they were admitted. The Courtneys 
seemed greatly astonished when they saw, 
grouped about the drawing-room. Dr. Fair- 
man, Miss Standish, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, 
with their new-found son Horace ; also Mr. 
Farral and Mrs. Daily. 

“ I was very much surprised, Mr. Crawford,” 
said the elder Courtney, stiffly, when I 
called at your offlce in the city and learned 


The Street Singer 351 

that you had left word that if I desired to see 
you I must come here. I don’t quite under- 
stand it.” 

You will in a few moments,” said Horace 
Crawford, evenly. 

Ah I ” Courtney turned upon the speaker 
a sneering look. ** So it is you ? I am sur- 
prised that you have turned up again — ahem 
— considering past circumstances.” 

We will not discuss that, Mr. Courtney,” 
said the elder Crawford, sternly. All that 
is between me and my son. You are here to 
see me in regard to the Carlyle estate ? ” 

** Yes,” said Courtney, meaningly ; to see 
you, in private.” 

All here,” stated Mr. Crawford, com- 
posedly, “ are fully acquainted with the case ; 
and they will remain.” 

** Very well.” Mr. Courtney’s voice was 
cold and formal. We will proceed to busi- 
ness at once and get it over. As you know, 
this is the fifteenth of November ; and to-day 
the estate of old Robert Carlyle comes to me.” 


352 


The Street Singer 


“ Providing/’ interposed Mr. Crawford, 
'‘that the old man’s grandson, Harrison, does 
not turn up.” 

“ It is not likely that he will do so,” said 
Courtney, with a smile something like tri- 
umph. “ His absence has been of several 
years’ duration, now.” 

“That the boy and his mother left old 
Robert Carlyle’s house, at all, is due entirely 
to you,” said Mr. Crawford, warmly. “ You 
influenced the old man to demand that the 
boy be given up to you to raise, knowing 
full well that the mother would not consent. 
You counted upon producing the effect that 
was produced. The old gentleman made a 
will in which he plainly said that if the boy 
was not, by to-day, returned and placed in 
your care, as he had commanded, the estate 
would be yours. He added this to the instru- 
ment in a fit of anger ; nevertheless he was 
not blind to the part you were playing, for, 
after an interview with me, he wrote still 
another document which read that if the boy 


353 


The Street Singer 

was returned by to-day, the care of him passed 
to me. You see, the old man began to sus- 
pect, as the mother had suspected from the 
first — that the lad would not be safe with you.’^ 

“ You insult me I ’’ said Mr. Courtney, 
haughtily. 

‘‘ I am very sorry, but I must state facts. 
You knew of the existence of this paper ; the 
attempt of your son,^^ pointing to young 
Courtney, who had sat silent all this time, 
‘‘ and another man to steal it from my house 
in Ashland, proves this.” 

Mr. Courtney turned a trifle pale at this, 
but said nothing. Miss Standish turned to 
Mr. Crawford, and asked : 

Uncle Dawson, how did poor Anna know 
of the paper that provided for your taking 
care of her boy after to-day ? ” 

I told her,” said young Crawford, ** at the 
time I met her in the streets.” 

All this is mere folly,” put in Mr. Coui t- 
ney. “ I am here to arrange this matter of 
the estate ; the boy is still missing ” 


354 


The Street Singer 

“ Hold on,” said Mr. Farral, rising, “ don’t 
be too sure of that/’ 

*^What do you mean ?” demanded Mr. 
Courtney, once more changing color. 

The boy is here,” said another voice, and 
Chub Foster entered the room, leading Harry 
by the hand. 

For a moment the elder Courtney was 
speechless ; then he turned upon his son and 
said, in a low tone : 

You told me that he was still on board 
the wrecked schooner in the cove.” 

“ He was, the last time I was there,” almost 
whined Richard. 

“ When was that? ” 

Two or three weeks ago.” 

The father regarded him fixedly for a mo- 
ment; then faced the others, and said in a 
cold, unruffled voice : 

As the boy has been returned, I suppose 
that alters matters. I bid you all good-day. 
Come, Richard.” 

As they heard the street door close upon 


The Street Singer 355 

the Courtneys, Chub turned to those about 
him and said with a grin : 

I wouldn’t like to be in Richard’s shoes 
just now.” 

You are not going to permit him to go 
free after what he has done? ” cried Dr. Fair- 
man to Mr. Crawford. 

“ It is best to do so,” said the old attorney. 
“ You see it is a family matter, and it is as 
well to have no scandal.” 

A little later. Nan Daily, her brother Phil, 
now able to walk a little, although still 
weighted with Dr. Fairman’s plaster cast 
upon his once crippled limb, and Harry and 
Chub, were talking it all over. 

You’re rich, now,” said Nan to Harry, 
“ and you’ve got friends.” 

'' I always had friends,” answered Harry, 
smiling at Chub. 

Yes ; I know. But I mean relatives. 
And then we are rich, too, and Phil will soon 


356 The Street Singer 

be well and strong. It all came out beauti- 
fully, I think, don’t you ? ” 

“ But Chub isn’t rich,” said Phil, thought- 
fully. 

‘‘ He’s richer than any of us,” declared Nan. 

** I heard Miss Standish say so to Uncle Jim 
a little while ago. She said that his voice 
would, maybe, set the whole world talking.” 

Chub said nothing ; he stood at the window ' 
gazing across the tree tops in the square ; and < 
could his young friends have looked into his 
eyes at that moment, they would have known 
that he was searching deep into the time to 
come and wondering if, indeed, the future i 
held that glory for him. Jj 


*^2 0 




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